


Bound

by SilverAconite



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: BDSM, F/M, M/M, Multi, Romance, Smut
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-01-23
Updated: 2019-01-25
Packaged: 2019-03-08 11:12:25
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 26
Words: 75,337
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13457028
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SilverAconite/pseuds/SilverAconite
Summary: When Hermione's magic pulls her away from her friends and Hogsmeade village to the top of a hill, the decision she makes will open her eyes, shining a new light on the world around her - a very hot light. With a lot of learning and some extra homework, she will learn that some people are FAR more than they seem. She may even find love in an unexpected place.**Slow-ish Updates**Set in Hermione's 6th year, beginning the weekend after her birthday. She is 18 at the commencement of this story. Just as you should be if you're reading it





	1. ~ The Contract

**Author's Note:**

> Hello! This is the first chapter of a story I've been working on for a while. I decided to start publishing it here as a birthday gift to myself - I am currently nineteen years and thirty-nine minutes old at the time of posting. I'll try to update fairly often, but with my editor being English and me being Aussie, time is a bit of a thing.
> 
> Aaaaaaanywayyyyyy.... ENJOY!
> 
> (And pretty please comment and stuff!)

"Hey! 'Mione, where're you going?" Ron shouted from his seat at their table in the Three Broomsticks.

Hermione flashed her friends a reassuring smile over her shoulder. "I wanted to get some birthday shopping done and there's supposed to be a new book out that I wanted. I'll meet you at Honeydukes."

Nobody had time to reply as she slipped quickly out the door and down the street. She walked quickly through the bustling crowds, following a sensation in the pit of her stomach that she found difficult to deny – it felt like a rope was tied around her waist, pulling her towards something. She paused at the edge of town, where the noisy, milling crowd of students and adults alike gave way to what appeared to be a smooth, solid dirt track. Still, the urge to follow pushed her to continue, and so she took a step. Her foot sank into a thick, clinging mixture of moss and mud. After a brief struggle to free herself, she muttered, “ _Tergeo_.”  Once again clean, she cast a charm on her feet to make her footsteps feather-light. Stepping forwards again, she sank less than an inch, and was soon striding confidently along the track.

Some minutes later, when the village and its people were nothing more than a dull buzz behind her, Hermione released a breath she hadn't realised she was holding. Her breath formed a white, cotton-candy cloud before her - odd for this time of year, even in Scotland – and then it disappeared. Every time she let out a breath, the moisture vanished, less than half a foot from her mouth. Puzzled, with her heart beating a tattoo against her chest, she lifted a hand up, stretching out her arm. For a heartbeat, it felt like pins and needles had engulfed the limb, and then it was just a pleasant tingle running up her arm. Her hand disappeared from sight and, emboldened by the apparent acceptance of the strange wards, she followed. The same happened, only spread throughout her entire body, and she could once again see her hand. Looking about warily, wand clutched between her tingling fingers, she saw that the snow was utterly devoid of disturbance. It struck her as odd that someone would ward an empty hilltop. Feeling her curiosity piqued and, given the stupidity of her actions, strangely confident, she pressed onwards.

After several steps, the tingling of the wards washed away, as if a shower had been cut off, and Hermione stopped. In front of her, appearing out of nowhere, was a huge, gated mansion. There were three floors lined with darkened windows, above which sat tall, pointed roofs of weathered, slate-grey tile. It looked every part the old, Victorian mansion, with an apron of patio slabs that lead around one side of the building, presumably to what had once been a servants’ entrance. She wrapped her hand lightly around one of the black bars of the towering, wrought iron gate and the great, shaggy, black dog dozing on the top step lifted its massive head. It stared intently at Hermione for several seconds, while she remained frozen with bated breath, then lowered its head and went back to napping.

“Magnificent, is it not?”

Startled, Hermione spun in the direction of the voice. Not far from her stood an unfamiliar witch. Her robes, a deep burgundy reminiscent of fine wine, clung to her tall, slender frame, and her sleek, black hair reminded Hermione of Morticia Addams. Her eyes, the striking colour of forest leaves in the summer, flickered from the high-reaching rooftops to the bushy-haired little witch before her. “Come with me.”

An awestruck Hermione nodded and stepped aside as the woman approached the gate. With a wave of her hand, what had appeared a single, solid gate split down the middle, both halves swinging open in silent welcome. The woman beckoned for Hermione to follow and started towards the house. Entranced, she followed without a word, not even noticing the stark white pebbles which lined the path as they crunched beneath her feet – instead, her attention was captivated by the thrumming buzz of magic all around her.

"So, what brings you here, young lady?"

"I don't really know, to be honest," Hermione replied, her voice soft and oddly breathy. "My magic, I suppose. I just, sort of, wandered here."

“That is the most common way,” said the woman as a thoughtful look crossed her angular face. Brushing it off, she ushered the young girl inside. “I am Mistress Marian, and this is the Fiendfyres’ Pleasure House. I oversee all activities here, on a day-to-day basis.”

"Pleasure House?" Hermione repeated absently, looking around the tidy reception area with its grey marble floor and warm, cocoa walls. "What kind of pleasure house?"

"Come with me, Miss..?" Marian trailed off, awaiting an answer.

"Oh!" Hermione turned her attention back to the older witch. "Granger, Hermione Granger."

“Well, Miss Granger, now I know why you seem so familiar. You are in the very middle of this war, are you not? One of Mr Potter’s friends?”

“I- I am,” she said nervously, suddenly wondering whether it was the right thing to do, giving her name. What would Harry say if she got herself caught by Death Eaters so easily? Her instincts, however, told her that she had no need to fret.

“In that case, I will warn you now – this is a safe place for our members. All politics and perceptions are left at the door, without exception. Many of those whom we entertain are in precarious positions, and many find themselves in the unenviable positions of needing to lie to protect themselves and those that they care about. Do you understand that, Hermione? If you cannot agree, then I must ask you to leave now.”

“Yes, Mistress,” Hermione replied with a firm nod of her head, not quite sure herself why she used that title. “Although, I’m certain I can’t think of anyone I might know here.”

Marian smiled. "You would be surprised. Now, as for those other questions, come with me, Miss Granger, and you will have your answers."

Hermione nodded and allowed herself to be led down a long corridor, into a luxurious office with walls of a rich, ruby red against panelling so dark as to be almost black, while the carpet was a soft, creamy colour. To the left, in front of a large window that showed a beautiful view of the Scottish Highlands, sat an ancient, leather-topped desk of glistening mahogany. It was practically bare, with the exception of a quill and inkpot. To the right was a stack of filing cabinets, exquisitely made with what looked to be not only the same material, but timber from the same tree.

Hermione sat in the seat that was offered to her – an oversized desk chair of supple black leather – whilst Marian walked around the desk to sit in her own seat, made to match. She promptly began rummaging through drawers for something, and finally pulled a sheaf of parchments out, placing it in front of her.

She slid the package across to Hermione. "This should explain everything, but if you have any questions, feel free to ask me. At the back, there is a contract for you to sign; this facility is kept under a charm somewhat similar to the Fidelius, so the contract protects both the owners and members of Fiendfyres’. If, after reading this, you decide not to sign, a specialist will _Obliviate_ you and you will be sent on your way with a vague memory of reading under a tree on a hill, or some such thing, depending on your regular pastimes and such. Should you choose to stay, arrangements will be made for you to begin your training and we will proceed from there."

Hermione nodded and, in true bookworm fashion, dove into the thick pile. The next hour was spent reading through the minutiae of the agreement, devouring every scrap of information provided by the documents. A comfortable silence filled the room, only punctuated by the occasional question. True to her word, Marian replied with detailed answers that left Hermione’s famous curiosity sated.

"You have a contact at the school?" Hermione asked, turning to the last page and taking the self-inking quill in hand.

"We do," Marian responded, "When your formal training is completed, you may continue to learn with them."

"This contact, are they a teacher, a student, who is it?"

"Miss Granger," Marian leaned forward with a soft smile, her elbows on the desk, hands linked at the fingers – long and slender – upon which her chin rested lightly. "This is information I simply cannot disclose until you sign that contract – even then, I will only inform you when I see fit to do so. I assure you, you will be in safe hands. He is a very protective and caring Master."

_Well that narrows it down to, oh, about half the school!_  With her lip between her teeth, Hermione turned her attention back to the parchment before her and scratched her tidy signature on the line. She initialled several times and signed twice more, and then Mistress Marian sealed the agreement with her own signature and a tap of her beech wand. The magic of the contract swirled through the room and the parchment rolled itself up and was sealed with swirled black and red wax bearing what appeared to be some sort of crest. The parchment stored itself away in one of the filing cabinets and Hermione's stomach flip-flopped as the realisation of what she had just done hit her like a bludger to the gut.

"Congratulations, Hermione; you are now a member of Fiendfyres'." Marian smiled and leaned over the desk for a hug. When they parted, she rummaged through her drawer and removed two unadorned silver bracelets, made of the finest chain link Hermione had ever seen. "Hold your hands out, darling. These bracelets are goblin-made silver, we use them to identify trainees – gold for Masters who are unattached or looking for a new sub. They are not visible to anyone unless you or I make them so – and there are few in this world capable of seeing through the concealment charms."

Hermione raised her shaking hands and watched as the light chains were slipped around her wrists, shrinking immediately to fit snugly.

Marian smiled, held up her finger and said, "Now, before you go, I will give you your journal." From another drawer, she retrieved a small, but thick book with a green leather cover and handed it to Hermione. "I want you to keep a daily record of your meals and exercise in here and every evening, you will write an entry summarising your day. I have a second journal that shall be kept here, and the two are charmed so that I may read your entries and write messages to you. Every so often, I will set you a task, on which I will expect a report. You are to check the journal each morning when you get up, and in the evening before and after dinner."

Hermione nodded, thumbing through the blank pages of the journal. "Yes Ma'am," She replied.

"Call me 'Mistress' or 'Madam,' Hermione. We must be proper – I am no longer your host, but your Domina," Marian corrected, "Please take the submissive pose – you will find you know the position quite naturally."

"Yes, Mistress," Hermione answered, lowering herself to the ground. She tucked her legs under her body, sitting back on her heels, with her hands resting on her thighs, just above her knees, palms upward and open. Mistress Marian placed her foot between Hermione's thighs, nudging them slightly further apart.

"Well done, Hermione. Now, you had best get back to your friends before they wonder where you've gone. I will find my contact and talk to him about making arrangements for you."

"Yes, Mistress." Hermione nodded and shifted fluidly to her feet. "Thank you for this opportunity."

Mistress Marian waved her away with a smile and she collected her bag and hurried back to Hogsmeade.

A quarter of an hour later, Hermione entered Honeydukes. She had just seen the distinctive red hair of Ginny and Ron heading inside, and a mischievous grin spread over her face as she walked up behind the unsuspecting Weasley girl. Her fingers found Ginny’s ticklish sides as she shouted, “Boo!”

Ginny squealed and turned on her assailant with a glare to rival her mother's. "Hermione! You can't just do that to a girl!"

Hermione smirked, trying to control her laughter. "Too late now, Gin. What have you guys been up to?"

"Oh, not much. We just went and had a look at some brooms and Quidditch gear – nothing you'd be interested in."

"Right, well we have fifteen minutes to get our sweets and get back to the meeting point before McGonagall comes head-hunting."

"We can do that," Ron piped in, arms already laden with sweets.

"Get a basket, Ronald!" Hermione scolded. "Honestly, anyone would think you'd never seen sweets!"

"Yes 'Mione." He turned away to find a basket, taking Harry and Ginny with him. Shaking her head, Hermione sighed and set off to collect her own basket of sweets. After paying for their treats and shrinking them down to fit easily in their pockets, the group scurried back to the meeting point just in time to blend in with the crowd and avoid a reprimanding.

Shortly up the path, Hermione heard a whisper-soft crack of apparition. She turned and looked over her shoulder, only to find Snape following behind them, the middle and ring fingers of his right hand in his mouth, his cheeks hollowed. A loose gold chain, as delicate as her own silver bracelets, glinted on his slightly exposed wrist. Nobody else seemed to notice him until he removed his fingers and began chastising stragglers. Unwilling to get caught staring, Hermione turned away, self-consciously pulling her sleeves further over her hands. She knew the bracelets weren't visible, yet Snape's uncanny ability to spot even the most sophisticated of concealment charms left her paranoid.  _What did Mistress Marian say about bracelets? Gold for...?_  Shaking away the thought – _Snape, a sexual deviant?_ _Yuck!_ – she continued on up the path to Hogwarts.

When they returned to the castle, Hermione slipped away to her dorm and jumped onto her bed. She drew the drapes around her and warded them heavily. The walk had taken longer than expected and it was almost dinner time, so she flicked to the first page to check for notes. She was uncertain if the note she found was a warning or a demand –  _‘Do not show your bracelets in Defence Against the Dark Arts classes.’_

With a sigh, she scrawled a quick, though tidy, acknowledgement before checking the time. Realising she was about to be late for dinner, she hid the journal and made her way through the common room and down the stairs. As she waited for one of the staircases to move back into position, she mulled over the note. Something in Defence class was a threat to either her safety, her secret, or perhaps even both. The only thing that came to mind for either was Professor Snape. With that unsettling thought floating in her mind, she tugged her sleeves down past her wrists and followed a group of Ravenclaws into the Great Hall.

She felt eyes on her from the teachers' table but when she looked up, she saw naught but a few owls tittering on the backs of chairs or resting on perches. The teachers were all conversing or eating, none of them paying much attention to the students, all of whom were involved in their own conversations. Hermione took her seat between Harry and Ron and helped herself to a plateful of the rich-as-ever feast.

She was careful to keep track of everything she ate and scribbled every last detail down in the journal after dinner, while nibbling at a slice of strawberry cheesecake. She added her cake by way of dessert, tucked the journal away in the trunk under her bed, which she kept locked and warded, and then lay back onto the mattress.

What had she gotten herself into? She crossed her arms behind her head and pondered this. What  _had_  she gotten herself into?  _A mess, if my past is anything to go by,_ she thought gravely. With that notion weighing heavily on her mind, she fell into a light, restless sleep long before the other Gryffindor girls returned.


	2. ~ Changes and Trauma

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Alternative title: Swan Chick (People who know the story of the Dioscuri and their parentage will understand!)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello! So from now on, chapters will be published fortnightly. I have written over 60k words, so while I appreciate people being concerned about aspects of the story, I am not willing to change anything at this late stage. To be honest, even at 6k words, I wouldn't be willing to change the plot. I still appreciate comments with constructive criticism or praise or whatever you wanna throw in there - just be warned that if you're persistently rude or pushy, I will eventually stop being polite.  
> Sorry to grumble! Enjoy!

Throughout the first week, Marian left a series of instructions correcting Hermione’s dietary habits – she should eat less of this, or more of that, cut those out and start eating these. With the changes to her diet, she began to feel the difference in herself. She had more energy, her magical endurance had increased – even her hair was starting to behave itself. Well, more or less. She also noticed that, despite providing all the necessary components, Hogwarts was hardly promoting the healthiest diet. Nevertheless, she was glad of the change – her increased stamina certainly helped with the ever-increasing piles of homework and, though she would never admit it, she was pleased by the increased attention she gained from boys as her hair became more manageable – one Cormac McLaggen seemed to be particularly interested in this development, amongst other things.

Once she had implemented the adjusted diet, almost a week passed before she heard from Marian again. She still spent at least half an hour or so writing in her journal, recording each meal as soon as she’d eaten before writing a detailed account of her day.

As instructed, she studiously avoided letting Snape –  _Professor_  Snape – see her bracelets, taking care to always cover them with her long sleeves. When questioned, she would cite the chilly weather or having had a sniffle the night before.

Her first serious reprimand over her sleeves had been a bit of an ordeal, but thankfully not enough to see her sitting before her head of house -

~oOo~

_Snape stalked silently through the room, the ominous thud of his dragon-hide boots on the floor distinctly audible over the sound of non-verbal spells zipping through the air. Hermione was the only student who hadn't removed her jumper, having cast a cooling charm over herself to ward off the heat of the magic buzzing through the air._

_Her body stiffened as the thudding footsteps came to a sudden halt directly behind her._

_"Miss Granger, would you care to explain why you have elected to cast a cooling charm upon yourself, rather than removing your ridiculous jumper?"_

_Hermione's words caught in her throat. She could feel him towering over her petite frame and his eyes, black as sin, boring into the top of her bushy head._

_She swallowed thickly and barely managed to force out a half-strangled, “Sorry, Sir,” before Harry, sweet-hearted idiot that he was, leapt to her defence._

_“Who cares what she’s wearing? She’s practically top of the class, and there are no rules saying she has to take off her jumper for you!”_

_His outburst was followed by a mumble of agreement from the Gryffindors and snickers from Draco and his Slytherins. Snape whirled around to face Harry, and Hermione turned with him. She could feel the fury rolling off him in waves and she shivered involuntarily._

_"Did I ask your opinion, Potter?" he sneered, "No. Now, if I recall correctly, the idea of this exercise was to practise non-verbal spells. Miss Granger, remove that jumper at once, the rest of you – get on with your work."_

_"I'm sorry, Sir, but I would prefer not to," Hermione piped in._

_His attention snapped to her and she found herself thinking that it would be rather convenient if the floor were to open up and swallow her whole at that moment. She could feel his raven eyes roving over her face and turned her gaze resolutely to the floor in a bid to keep him from invading her mind._

_After a moment of tense silence, he snarled, "Remove it."_

_She stubbornly refused and hoped that he wouldn't wring her neck when he growled, "Detention. You will join Filch tonight at eight." and strode away in a huff._

~oOo~

He hadn’t – although he had seemed tempted – and Marian had left a humorous comment on the matter the next morning, having finally responded to her notes.  That morning Hermione hurried to breakfast, leaving herself just enough time to record the meal in her journal, before rushing to class.

Fortunately, Snape had decided that essays were in order for the day's lesson and he mostly ignored the students as they sat and scribbled on varying lengths of parchment. At the end of class Hermione discreetly ensured that her bracelets were concealed before handing in her scroll. Snape glared at it, admittedly some two feet longer than requested, then turned his raven eyes on her. At Hermione's seemingly calm response, he sneered and dismissed the class with a discontented growl. Gryffindors and Slytherins alike fled from the room – and their foul-tempered professor – scooping up their books and equipment on the way.

Hermione, being furthest from the door, was last to scurry out, books clutched tightly to her chest. When the heavy slab of oak slammed closed in her wake, she wasted no time in racing to her next class – anywhere but the Defence classroom.

A few days later, a note appeared in her journal with instructions to use the floo in the Room of Requirement to get to Fiendfyres' in her next free period. Nerves and excitement ran through her as she realised her next free period was first thing that morning. Scribbling a note of confirmation, Hermione showered and dressed quickly before strolling down to the great hall for breakfast.

She entered the hall with a group of Hufflepuffs and chattered amiably with Harry, Ron and Ginny over pancakes and fruit until they were dismissed for classes. She filed out with everyone else, then darted up to the dorm to collect her journal before heading back to the seventh-floor corridor. She paced until the door appeared: a simple oak door with a black handle and no lock. Checking that the coast was clear, she slipped inside. The room was about the size of Myrtle's bathroom with a large fireplace and a soft, blue rug with intricate golden embroidery running throughout.

Deciding to look more closely at the room later, Hermione made directly for the fireplace. She grabbed a handful of floo powder from the pot on the mantle and, with a short call of, "Fiendfyres'," she felt herself spinning away, before practically falling out into an unfamiliar room.

The walls were soft blue, accented with dark cherry woods and several paintings hung upon them – muggle ones, complete with blank, unseeing eyes. She wasn’t sure whether it calmed or relaxed her; it was so out of place in the magical world. The hearth she stood on was made of stone. The furniture in the room was made of the same wood as the intricate decoration of the walls, and the armchairs were upholstered in a midnight blue material that almost seemed to shimmer.

As Hermione stepped off the hearth onto the carpet – a creamy, off-white colour – she noticed her shoes had been cleaned by a charm. She was halfway across the room, intent on examining the upholstery, when the door flew open. Mistress Marian, looking extremely frustrated, strode in and promptly settled herself into one of the chairs. A calculating stare fell upon Hermione, who had frozen mid-step.

"Hermione, I am pleased to see that you are following my instructions." She smiled widely, breathing slowly. Every trace of her frustration had washed away in a matter of moments.  "Sit. We will take tea before starting your training."

"Yes Mistress," Hermione replied, "Where may I sit?"

"Good girl. You may take the armchair." Marian offered another smile and gestured to the armchair opposite herself. Once Hermione was seated, Marian called, "Pippi!" and a tiny elf wearing rainbow socks on her ears popped into view. "We would like tea please, Pippi. The usual, thank you."

"Yes Mistress!" the elf answered, almost vibrating with excitement, "Pippi will bring the tea with a special cup for the young Missy!" The elf winked out again and was back moments later with a full tea service. She picked up one of the cups and handed it to Hermione. "This is Missy's cup. It will help Missy to learn and train faster. Missy must drink all of her tea."

"Thank you, Pippi," Hermione replied, gently taking the cup from the small elf's hands. "I promise I'll drink all my tea."

"It is Pippi's honour to serve Missy!" the little elf squeaked, before looking to Marian, who dismissed her with a wave of her hand.

When the elf had left, Marian stood and poured them each a cup of tea. “Depending on the details of the arrangement you enter into, your Master or Mistress could very well expect you to serve food and drinks for them, or even their guests. This is something you would need to discuss with your Dominant, of course, but we will deal with that in due course.” Handing Hermione her cup, the elegant witch returned to her seat. “Many members here prefer to use aliases, _glamours_ and some distraction charms when we hold events here at the house, or indeed elsewhere. This is particularly true for those who are prominent figures in the wizarding world. As I am quite certain you would like your identity protected, in light of who you and your friends are, I had planned to spend your first session devising a suitable appearance and _nom_ _de_ _guerre_ , as well as ensuring your charms are robust enough. Do you have any objections?”

"No, Mistress," Hermione replied. Marian nodded in return and the two finished their tea in silence.

When the teacups had been placed back on the tray and the tea service vanished, Marian gestured for Hermione to stand, doing so herself. She conjured a plush cushion on the floor between them, gesturing to it. "Please kneel, Hermione. I will check your position, then we can begin."

Hermione nodded and dropped onto the cushion, quickly assuming the submissive position; her legs folded under her body and slightly apart, bum touching her heels, back straight, head tilted down and hands on her thighs with the palms facing upward. She watched Marian as far as she could, without moving, before the other woman disappeared behind her.

"Well done. This is perfect, Hermione. Your Master or Mistress may change this position when you are collared, but this is the basic pose that most use.”

"Now, shall we begin with a name? Do you have any ideas?"

"Yes, Mistress. I like the name Leda," Hermione replied, keeping her eyes down, "She was a figure in Greek mythology-"

"Mother to Helen of Troy, Clytemnestra and the Dioscuri, yes," Marian finished thoughtfully, "Yes, I like it. Leda it is, then. This will be the name you use both here and when you are acting as a member of Fiendfyres' in public – in short, whenever you wear your  _glamours_. Understood?"

Hermione nodded slightly, "Yes, Mistress."

Over an hour was spent after that layering _glamours_ to create a look both unrecognisable and yet close enough to her natural appearance that any Dominants would still be attracted to her once they were removed. In the end, her _glamours_ consisted of darkened hair and eyes; a slightly longer face which served to make her appear slightly taller; a slimmer nose and emphasis on the soft, barely-there freckles dusted across her nose and cheeks. Marian also devised some modifications to her school uniform – shortening the skirt and tightening the shirt – to ensure that her clothing, always somewhat oversized, wouldn’t give her away. This, along with a few well-placed distraction charms, would ensure that even those close to her would be unlikely to recognise her.

Having completed Hermione's disguise, Marian decided a tour of the House was in order. The charms hiding her true identity were checked for any flaws and, satisfied that they would hold, Marian led the way out of the room. Beginning on the top floor, which consisted of several small, apartment-like rooms used by guests, the pair worked their way down through the floors, via a series of ornate staircases. Hermione learned that the old mansion was expanded considerably and that the knobs on the doors to private areas and guest rooms were charmed to change colour depending on whether they were vacant, occupied or reserved; green for vacant, red for occupied, and yellow with blue spots for reserved. Marian also demonstrated that the doorknobs would disappear if the person attempting to enter was unwelcome and that a simple charm, cast from inside, would make the door transparent to the occupants' choice of people – any and all passers-by, or only specific guests.

When the pair finally reached the dungeon level, Marian showed Hermione the main public playroom, a large, open space with high ceilings and a series of wooden and leather structures scattered about. At the far end of the room was a tall, black podium with a matching cushion of soft velvet placed atop it. Several smaller podiums, all a deep, rich red, on either side of the black one served to form an incomplete ring that took up about half the room with the last, which would have been directly opposite the black one, absent, forming an entrance into the circle. This path was marked with a matching red carpet, which ran all the way up to the tallest podium and formed a circle around the outside of the ring.

"The carpet marks the path used when we display new submissives," Marian explained, "There is a door directly behind the black podium and the submissives wait in that room while they're announced, then they file out into two lines, each of which parades around one side of the circle, before merging together to continue down the middle, leaving the line in pairs to take their places on the podiums either side of them. The black podium is usually reserved for new trainees on their debut night, or special guests showing off a submissive. The platforms expand to accommodate limited play for trials or shows." Marian demonstrated how each platform could be modified for different purposes, then turned back to Hermione with a smile. "Of course, the podiums also change colour to suit the décor of any occasion."

Hermione nodded, still trying to process everything. When she had finished gazing around the room in amazement, she turned back to Marian to ask, "So, when you've finished training me, I'll go on the black podium?"

Marian nodded. "That is correct."

"How long will I train?"

"That depends on how well and how quickly you learn – I would say a year at most," Marian replied. "Now, we had best get you back to the school for your next class."

Once they'd returned to the training room, Marian asked, "Hermione, do you have anything you would like to change or ask before you go?"

Hermione thought for a moment, then said, "Yes, Mistress, one thing." She pulled her sleeves up to reveal the delicate silver bracelets. "Could these be moved higher? They're a bit hard to conceal, especially in Defence Against the Dark Arts; Professor Snape sees concealment charms better than even Dumbledore – sometimes he sees  _through_  them. The past weeks have been quite difficult – I've been trying to conceal them from him and I'm afraid he's getting quite angry with me."

Marian nodded. "You can place them on your upper arms," she replied, tugging the chains upwards. They expanded to accommodate the wider part of her arm, then contracted again to fit snugly, just above her elbow. "There. Keep your sleeves fairly low like you have been doing though; we wouldn’t want anyone to notice a sudden change. Can you manage that?"

"Yes. Thank you, Mistress." Hermione nodded. The pair said their farewells and Hermione flooed back to the Room of Requirement. She carefully checked that the corridor was clear, before _disillusioning_ herself – another spell Marian had helped her master whilst they were working on her _glamours_ – and making her way to the girls' bathroom. After dawdling in the bathroom for a while, she headed off to class.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading and pretty please do stuff - Kudos and Comments, I believe are the things I'm looking for!


	3. ~ The Stranger

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, so the chapter is about half an hour later than I'd hoped it would be, but I got distracted... In other news, I got some nice sparkly jewelry for my piercings today! Aaaaaaaanywaaaayyy... Enjoy!

The following morning, Hermione woke to the beginnings of a fitness regime scribbled in the journal. A quick _tempus_ charm told her there was time for a run before breakfast, but anything more would have to wait. With this in mind, Hermione donned a t-shirt, loose sweat pants and trainersnd made her way out of the castle.

She jogged a lap around the Black Lake, then returned hastily to the castle, wanting to shower before breakfast. She managed to reach the dorm before Lavender and the others woke, showered quickly, threw on her school robes and made her way down to breakfast.

When she reached the Great Hall, she hurried to the Gryffindor table and took a seat beside Ginny. The youngest Weasley was having a very animated 'discussion' with her brother about her relationship with Dean Thomas. Ron was told, in no uncertain terms, that, "My love life is none of your business and you'll keep your nose out of it unless you want to lose the big, ugly thing!"

The Weasley boy's face turned a very unbecoming shade of purple-red and he grumbled a reply before stuffing his mouth with sausages and scrambled eggs. This, too, earned him a reprimand, this time from Hermione, for "eating like a pig."

After she’d eaten, Hermione rushed back to the dorm to get her books and record what she had eaten, then hurried off to her first class – Ancient Runes.

Several weeks prior, Professor Babbling had given the tiny class of four access to a series of books kept in the restricted section of the library. Their task since had been to translate and analyse the texts in relation to each other and the snippets in their textbooks. Hermione usually worked with the two Ravenclaws in the class – Lisa Turpin and Oliver Rivers – while Draco almost always worked alone. His notetaking, however, was immaculate and Professor Babbling would always collect and duplicate everyone's notes at the end of class so that everybody would have the same information.

Hermione’s evening was spent helping the boys with their homework and doing her own. By the time they were done, it was almost curfew. Nonetheless, Hermione hurried down to the Room of Requirement, which provided her with a spacious room containing some basic workout equipment and a magical display to track her heart rate and record the intensity of her workout. After a short, rather intense workout, she  _disillusioned_ herself and crept back to Gryffindor tower for a shower before bed. She was fortunate enough to reach the tower without encountering Filch – or his dreaded cat – and removed the  _disillusionment_  charm before rounding the corner and giving the password to a somewhat begrudging Fat Lady. Her nosy roommates were already well and truly asleep when she reached their dorm and she was able to shower and go to bed without being nagged over her whereabouts and somewhat dishevelled appearance.

Over the next few days, she organised her fitness regime to fit around her classes and homework, as well as adding more activities and the length of time she would work out for. Hermione was surprised to find that, in just the few days since she started exercising, her body shape had already begun to change, albeit minutely; the little bit of pudge on her tummy rapidly disappeared and her breasts seemed to swell slightly, becoming fuller, firmer and rounder. She also noticed that her hips had rounded off nicely and her thighs, while they would never have a gap between them – not that she particularly wanted one – were becoming less wobbly. She seemed to have both lost and gained weight all over her body and was thankful for her robes and oversized uniform, which easily concealed the changes from any would-be observers.

Her next trip to Fiendfyres' was scheduled immediately after lunch the following Sunday. It was on that same morning that Marian had left a note informing her that she would be undergoing a medical examination to check her physical condition – flexibility, strength, nutrition and overall health. Hermione had scribbled a quick acknowledgement of the note, before sneaking out of the castle for her morning run.

When she reached the path encircling the Black Lake, her usual running track, she was surprised to find that she was not alone. Across the lake, barely visible in the early dawn light, was a lanky figure with a curtain of dark hair obscuring their face, reaching down to just past their shoulders. The stranger – male if the lack of shirt and breasts was anything to go by – was pale-skinned with a complexion so shockingly light that, if Hermione hadn't known better, she'd have thought she was seeing a ghost – or even a unicorn. As it was, the only way she knew that the person was, in fact, a person was because of the presence of black boxer shorts and that they were jogging towards a short slope of rock that jutted out into the lake.

She watched the unknown figure accelerate into a flat-out sprint, long legs propelling them up the rock slope and off the edge. He contorted his body into an arc, before landing with the faintest ‘splash’, only audible because of the early morning quiet. The black head surfaced, turned in Hermione's direction and immediately disappeared underwater. After waiting over a minute for the mysterious person to resurface, Hermione assumed that they had used a charm of some sort to hide – or escape unseen – and so turned onto the path to begin her morning run.

Despite being delayed by the bizarre encounter, Hermione managed to return to the castle with time enough to spare for a quick workout and a shower before the rest of her dorm awoke. She showered quickly under cool, refreshing water, washing the sweat from her body and the heat from her flesh, then dressed in her pyjamas and went back to bed for a quick nap before starting her day proper.

As instructed, Hermione flooed to Fiendfyres' after lunch and waited for Marian to arrive. While she was waiting, she practised applying her  _glamours_ , ensuring they were strong enough to last several hours as she was uncertain how long her check-up might take.

She had been waiting nearly fifteen minutes when Marian entered. The older woman stopped just in front of Hermione and inspected her work. After casting a few diagnostic charms to check the strength and durability of her work, Marian nodded and said, "Well done, Hermione. That saves us having to do it before the Mediwitch comes. It means we can take tea while we wait for her – Pippi!"

At her Mistress' call, the little elf – this time wearing her long, rainbow socks in a big, floppy bow on her head – popped into view. Her wrinkled little face lit up at the sight of Hermione and she bounced excitedly on her toes. "Pippi knows what Mistress needs! Pippi will be back in a flash!" and with that, she winked out. Marian took her place in one of the armchairs and gestured Hermione onto a cushion on the floor by the coffee table.

Hermione had just gotten into position when Pippi returned with a full tea service, including an extra teacup for their guest. "Pippi remembered Mistress talking with Madam Evalyn about doing a check-up on the young Missy today, so Pippy made certain to bring an extra teacup for the Madam Evalyn!"

"Well done, Pippi," Marian answered, smiling at the little elf. "I will call on you later if we require your assistance. You may return to your friends."

"Yes Mistress!" Pippi replied, her large ears flapping wildly as she nodded enthusiastically, before disappearing with a 'pop!'

Marian shook her head, smiling fondly at the excitable little elf, then turned to Hermione. "Do you remember last time when I mentioned some Masters requiring their submissives to serve tea, among other things?"

Hermione silently nodded in the affirmative and waited for Marian to continue.

"Good. Well today, you will learn how to serve tea to the standard most dominants, myself included, expect. In this case, you will remain kneeling, however you will rise into a more active position. Your back is to remain straight and you will bend at the waist. You are to hold the pot by the handle with your right hand and your left will be used to hold the lid in place. Before you pour, you will politely enquire as to how the guest takes their tea. Guests are served in order of importance and are to be addressed as 'Sir' or 'Ma'am'. When you pour the tea and milk, the pot is to be held low over the cup, but not so low as to touch any part of it. A new spoon is to be used for each guest if they require milk, sugar or any other additives and you will add the required amount and mix with the same spoon. Understood? You may speak."

Hermione nodded, "Yes Mistress. I understand."

“Wonderful. Now, any submissives present are to be served after everyone else, yourself last. Usually, your dominant will be the last served before the submissives, though depending on the event, this order may change – some dominants prefer to be served first."

"Yes Mistress," Hermione responded.

Marian smiled. "Why don't you have a go now – practise."

Hermione nodded her acknowledgement and rose onto her knees. She reached towards the cup nearest her Mistress and asked, "How do you take your tea, Madam?"

"Very good," Marian answered, "Black with one sugar, please."

"Yes Ma'am," Hermione said, before taking the teapot as instructed and filling the cup. When she was done, she gently replaced the pot on the tray, carefully wiped away a drop about to run down the side of the pot, then added a spoonful of sugar and stirred it in gently. She dried the spoon on a napkin and placed it on the saucer beside the cup. Finally, she handed the cup and saucer to her waiting Mistress.

Having watched carefully while Hermione prepared her tea, Marian took the cup with a nod and congratulated Hermione on her flawless execution of the task. A rapid knocking on the closed door signalled the arrival of their guest and a wave of Marian's hand saw the door swing open to admit an older witch – short with a round, wrinkled face and sky-blue eyes still full of youthful joy, though visibly aged.

The witch took a seat in the armchair opposite Marian and beamed down at Hermione. “You must be Leda. I must say, you look in good health, and very pretty, at that.” She gave a little huff and gestured to Marian. "Mari here has been nagging me all week to come and check you over – she's awfully proud of you. Oh! I'm forgetting myself! My Name's Eva – I've known Mari since she was just a babe, best friends with her older sister, I was – still am!"

Marian glared at the older witch, "That is enough of my life-story, don't you think,  _Evalyn_?"

"Oh yes, I'd forgotten how you hate being talked about in front of your trainees." She winked at Hermione, a smirk on her bright pink lips. "I'll take my tea with a splash of milk and a drop of honey, dear. I'm sure Mari's already started you on the domestic side of things."

Hermione nodded and replied with a soft, "Yes Ma'am," before preparing the tea as instructed. Once Eva had been handed her cup and saucer, Hermione looked to Marian, who nodded her approval of Hermione's unspoken request. With permission from her Mistress, Hermione served her own tea and sat back on her heels to drink it while the two older witches conversed.

After their tea, Marian conjured an examination bench and helped Hermione onto it. Eva cast several diagnostic charms to determine her nutrition, fitness, muscle tone, strength and overall health. Next, they tested her flexibility, which required Hermione to remain in a range of positions, some of which were quite uncomfortable, whilst Eva cast several diagnostic spells on her joints and ligaments, or manually stretched and pulled.

When they were done, all three returned to their seats and Hermione once again served tea, while Marian and Eva discussed her results. It turned out she was in good health and quite fit, but a bit stiff – nothing a little work couldn't fix. Eva left shortly thereafter and Hermione worked with Marian for the rest of the afternoon, practising formal domestic duties and learning some positions from a muggle yoga book.

The session had seen her returning to the school with a copy of the muggle yoga book, courtesy of Marian, and a suggestion to begin a yoga group with some friends. Hermione had immediately thought of Ginny who, when asked, was all too glad to have a go at some ‘funny muggle poses’, as she put it. The red-head was even more enthusiastic when she discovered that their new afternoon activity would not only be fun and relieve some of the stress of studying, but also benefit their joints and muscles, thus helping with their overall fitness. They also managed to recruit Luna and Neville, but all attempts to include Harry and Ron fell on deaf ears. Instead, the boys preferred to roughhouse and play wizards' chess, or talk about Quidditch with their mates. They simply weren't interested in yoga. Initially, it annoyed the girls that they couldn't – wouldn't – see the benefits of such a relaxing activity, but they later found that they were relieved to get a break from the boys' bone-headedness for half an hour each day.

The yoga sessions with Ginny continued throughout the term and, when they were just three and a half weeks out from exams, both girls were glad of the half-hour's reprieve it provided. Another check-up with Eva confirmed that the yoga was, in fact, increasing Hermione's flexibility, and that, combined with her fitness regime and healthier diet, it was actually steadily increasing her power and stamina – both physically and magically. These things would eventually stop increasing and simply plateau, but for the time being, she was doing well.

Since that morning at the lake, Hermione hadn't seen the pale man. He seemed to have disappeared and, despite her best efforts, Hermione couldn’t find anyone who looked like him amongst the students or even the staff. She concluded that the encounter was either a coincidence – he just happened to go to the lake that day, or that he was still going to the lake, but had changed his timing so as not to be spotted again.

During one of their numerous training sessions, she had asked if Marian knew who the stranger could be, but she simply shook her head and said she couldn't remember ever seeing someone of that description. Disappointed, Hermione was left wishing that she’d been able to get a closer look at him, or at least seen his face properly, but she soon realised that it simply wasn’t to be. In the end, with exams closing in, she completely forgot about him, choosing instead to concentrate on studying.

 


	4. ~ It's Time

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ON TIMEEEEE!!!!  
> Also, Minerva VS Sev! XD

Marian found herself pleasantly surprised by the speed at which Hermione was picking things up – they had managed to get through several months' worth of work in just a few short weeks. By the end of their sixth week of training, Hermione had become accustomed to wearing corsets and high-heeled shoes, along with a variety of other rather revealing articles of clothing. Her _glamours_ had also improved significantly – she was now able to cast quick, strong and durable charms that could withstand intense training sessions and were barely discernible as anything other than her true features. Despite having completed so much in so short a time, they had still managed to find time for Hermione to practice both  _Legilimency_ and  _Occlumency_  and to learn some basic, daily-use beauty charms – mostly for controlling her still-quite-wild hair.

Given her rapid progress and astounding self-control, Marian decided it was time to test Hermione’s training in public and so, at the end of a training session one Friday afternoon, she waved the young witch over and directed her to kneel at her feet. She pulled Hermione forward and rested the girl's chin on her lap, as had become common practice throughout their time together.

"Hermione," she began, "you have been advancing very quickly in your training – I believe you may be ready to attend one of our functions."

"Really?" Hermione asked excitedly, raising her eyes to look into those of the older witch. "Will I be on the black podium?”

"Yes. Tomorrow evening, there is to be a Showcase. You are to arrive here at a quarter to one in the afternoon. An associate of mine, a seamstress, will be coming to design and fit your outfit. I will be arriving with her at one o'clock, precisely. You are to be kneeling on your cushion with your  _glamours_ in place by the time we arrive."

"Yes, Mistress," Hermione replied, lowering her gaze.

“Furthermore,” the older witch continued, “tonight, you shall enter the castle in disguise. You are to adjust your uniform as I have shown you, and you will visit each of your professors and ask after ‘The Prince’. You must observe their reactions and record each one in your journal.”

"Yes Mistress," she replied, once again.

"Good girl, Hermione. You have done so very well," Marian cooed.

It was almost dinner time as Hermione was leaving and Marian stopped her with a hand on her shoulder. "Do you have any questions, Hermione?"

"Just one Mistress," Hermione replied.

Marian nodded encouragingly. "Go ahead."

"Well, I was wondering if you would introduce me to the school contact sometime soon – it would be wonderful to have someone to talk to that could help me through my training."

"Ah, the Hogwarts Dominant." Marian smiled. "Well, I expect him to attend this weekend for the Showcase – though he rarely ever attends functions – but if he doesn't make an appearance, I will arrange for you to meet him sometime soon. Now, do you have any more questions?"

"No, Mistress," Hermione replied, "Thank you for inviting me to the Showcase."

"Good girl. Now, don’t forget to write up your results tonight. I expect to see them in the morning and we might discuss them tomorrow whilst you prepare." Hermione nodded her acknowledgement and Marian checked her modified uniform and  _glamours_  once more, before sending her through the floo.

Hermione stumbled out into the Room of Requirement and quickly grasped the mantle to regain her balance.  _Odd. The floo isn't usually so rough..._ She _scourgified_ her uniform to remove any trace of ash from the fireplaces and opened the buttons over her breasts, revealing more of her cleavage. Checking a mirror above the fireplace and deciding that she was satisfied with her appearance, even if she did feel out of place, she prepared to leave the Room of Requirement.

Slowly, carefully, she opened the door and slipped out, hurrying down to the castle entrance. By the time she had walked to the gates and back, making a diversion to Hagrid’s en route, the students and staff alike were well and truly ensconced in common rooms and offices. She began her task on the highest floors, working her way down and through the castle.

~oOo~

_____________________________

_ Task Report (Alphabetical Order) _

_Babbling: "There was a character in an ancient runic tale known as 'the Prince', but I doubt that's who you're looking for." – I remember that story._

_Binns: "Now, I do remember – yes! I taught young Eileen Prince when she was in school – haven't heard from her since, nor her father. Taught them both, I did. I remember–" – I got stuck with him for almost half an hour. He was telling a story._

_Burbage: "No, I can't say I've ever heard of him. You might try asking the headmaster."_

_Dumbledore: I couldn’t find him. He’s been increasingly absent recently._

_Firenze: "I've never heard of him – never seen you. I think it best if you leave." – He was clear, but not overly rude._

_Flitwick: "I cannot help you, Miss – I do not know of this 'Prince'." – He kept looking away and wouldn't make eye contact. He didn’t recognise me though._

_Hagrid: "Erm, well, no. I've never 'eard of 'im. Sorry. I'll – er – keep an ear out though." – I feel a bit bad. He was so flustered._

_Hooch: "Well he certainly doesn't fly – I've never heard of a Prince in Quidditch. Oh well. Off you go – and do fix that uniform." – It would seem she doesn't really remember anyone unless they play Quidditch._

_Sinistra: "No, dear – do fix that uniform." – She seemed quite unfazed._

_Slughorn: "Now, I'm not exactly certain. You might come in while I have a look through my records." – He kept looking down my top and some surface Legillimency showed that he mostly wanted me to come in so he could get a better view, so I declined._

_Sprout: "Now dear, that's not correct uniform. You'll need to find something more appropriate to wear. Prince? No, never heard of him. Now fix that uniform, off you go." – She was more worried about my uniform than any Prince._

_Trelawney: "I see a depraved spirit headed down a dangerous path! Beware! Beware!" – I… I don't even know how to react..._

_Vector: "No, I have not. I suggest you fix your uniform or find a new one." – She was quite terse, but not outright nasty._

_The most interesting were McGonagall and Snape. McGonagall was appalled at my modified uniform and tried to take me inside – "Come in, come in, dear. We'll sort you out and you can get back to bed." – she had a vague idea of who 'The Prince' might be, but I couldn't push further without her knowing what I was up to._

_Snape is still in the dungeons and when I knocked, he made me wait before telling me to "Enter!" and opening the door from his chair..._

_____________________________

_~oOo~_

_She knocked gently on the door and waited for his response. Moments later, she heard a muffled, "Enter!" and the heavy oaken door swung open._

_She stepped inside and crossed to the desk, where the man in question was sitting, hunched over a pile of papers, red-tipped quill in one hand and a teacup filled with something that looked – and smelled – suspiciously like brandy in the other. She waited patiently for him to finish slashing red marks across a second-year's essay and spoke only when he sat his quill aside and glared up at her. “What do you want?” He demanded._

_"I'm here to enquire after The Prince," she said sweetly, pushing her chest out, into his line of view and fluttering her eyelashes. Behind her back, her hands were clenched into tight fists, the only outward sign of her nervousness – what if he looked closely enough to see through the glamours? What if they weren’t good enough?_

_His eyes narrowed in response to this question. Hermione could see a vein bulging in his forehead and his already pale skin whitened across his knuckles as he gripped the handle of his teacup tightly enough to cause it to split with a soft 'click'. "I know of no 'Prince' and you will do well to remember that I do not take kindly to being asked stupid questions. Now, as you are clearly a student – former or otherwise, I suggest you either adjust your uniform and take yourself to bed, or else remove yourself from the premises." He flicked his wand and Hermione found herself standing outside his now-closed door._

_She pondered his reaction on the way back to Gryffindor tower, stopping briefly in the bathroom to remove her glamours and fix her uniform. When she was done, she checked her bracelets and hurried the rest of the way to her room..._

~oOo~

_____________________________

_I skimmed the surface of his thoughts for a bit, but he was pushing at my occlumency walls and he's much more experienced than me. I know he was **really** mad, though._

_____________________________

~oOo~

Hermione woke to someone beating urgently on the door of the room she shared with Lavender and Parvati. Seemingly the only one not otherwise occupied, Hermione slipped out of bed, stretched and crossed to the door. She heaved the it open and looked at the person on the other side with bleary eyes.

"Hermione! Get dressed quick, Snape's having a fit!" Ginny shouted excitedly, garnering the attention of the two other girls.

"Gin, I really don't--" she started, but was cut off as Ginny shoved past her and pulled her uniform out of her trunk.

"C'mon, Hermione!" she whined, "We'll miss it."

With a sigh and a roll of her eyes, she agreed and quickly readied herself for the day, before following Ginny down to the hall.

"Minerva, that girl is hiding something and I will  _not_  tolerate it. My job is to teach them to defend themselves and I cannot do so when a student is allowed to conceal a potentially dangerous item on her person. Not to mention we had an unknown witch roaming the halls last night –  _in uniform_." Snape seethed, voice dangerously low.

"I'd hardly call that a uniform," The older witch scoffed, shaking her head. "All the same, Severus, I cannot allow you to manhandle a student without proper evidence."

His jaw clenched and the look in his black, black eyes was  _murderous_. " _Evidence_? I  _saw_  the concealment charm. She's hiding something!"

"Albus has said no," McGonagall retorted.

"He did not!" Snape almost –  _almost_  – shrieked, "He said to deal with it later – now is later."

"Well she's  _my_  student," the older witch argued, folding her arms defiantly. "Not only that, but she is a responsible and honest student. She wouldn't hide anything dangerous – especially not on her person."

"Which of us here is the Defence Against The Dark Arts professor _and_ able to see concealment charms?" Snape seethed.

"You also have a paranoid, imaginative mind. Now suck your lip in before you fall over it and eat your breakfast!" McGonagall replied tersely, the tiniest of smirks tugging at her lips.

Snape glared murderously at the older witch and muttered something under his breath that sounded suspiciously like, "Stubborn, boar-headed, uptight old ninny," before returning to his breakfast. It didn't go unnoticed, however, that McGonagall's food was suddenly evading her fork as if it had a mind of its own and she let out a frustrated screech as it apparently formed some kind of word or image on her plate. Fortunately for Snape, he had stormed off  _before_  the Transfiguration Professor's food began misbehaving.

Hermione looked to Ginny, whose face was almost as red as her hair from her effort to suppress her laughter. "Don't get caught laughing at him," she warned, smirking at her friend, "he might just  _Avada_  you today."

At this, Ginny pursed her lips and the two girls made their way over to the Gryffindor table where the rest of their house were attempting to stifle their laughter. Some of the older students had cast silencing charms and notice-me-nots and were indulging in what Hermione imagined to be quite raucous laughter. She smiled, shook her head at them and filled her plate with a carefully measured breakfast.

It was almost half an hour later, near the end of breakfast, when Harry and Ron turned up, a heavily made-up Lavender Brown hanging off the red-head's arm. Hermione scoffed and subtly cast a  _muffliato_  around herself to block out the ridiculously high-pitched voice of Ron's 'latest conquest'.  _I wonder,_  she thought coldly,  _is there a charm that might seal her mouth shut, or at least make her less inclined to screech?_

 _Probably_ , she thought, and looked across to the Slytherin table, where Malfoy and his gang were tossing around some poor Hufflepuff's inkpot; it didn't look particularly special, but it was certainly breakable. A silent  _Accio_  brought it swiftly to her hands and she levitated it back across to the girl who looked on the verge of tears; Hermione recognised her as one of the first-years and shook her head at their cruelty.

~oOo~

"Granger. Stay," Snape commanded when she made to follow her classmates out after Defence, their only class on a Saturday.

Hermione stopped short and turned back to face her dour professor. "Sir?" she said, looking at him quizzically.

Snape waited until the final student had passed the threshold, before slamming the door with a flick of his wand and levelling his gaze on the young woman. "You have completed the curriculum for this term, have you not?" he said after a moment.

"S-sir, I--" Hermione stuttered, eyes wide.

"Do not lie to me, Miss Granger," he warned, eyes narrowed dangerously.

Hermione hung her head in resignation, "Yes, sir," she answered, "I have."

He smirked. "That wasn't so hard now, was it?"

"No, sir."

"Aside from Mister Malfoy, you are the only student in this school that has even the slightest chance of successfully brewing any form of medicinal potion. As Mister Malfoy is otherwise occupied with his schoolwork, I am left with no choice but to request you become my assistant."

"Professor?"

"You will not be attending this class for the remainder of the term; instead, you will be working in a private laboratory, assisting me in the restocking of the infirmary's potion stores," Severus confirmed. “If you are capable, that is.”

"Isn't that the job of the Potions Master?" she asked, slightly confused, "Why would we need to do it?"

"Because Horace is so far up--" he stopped abruptly and narrowed his eyes at the girl, "The resident Potions Master is busy supervising  _extra-curricular_  events and therefore has no time for brewing outside of classes. I also have very little time available for such tasks, therefore, I require an assistant that will not kill the entire school with poorly-made potions. Now I ask again, are – you – up – to – the – task?”

"I suppose so..." she trailed off thoughtfully, "Where will I be brewing? What do I tell my friends?"

"You will be brewing in the private laboratory in the dungeons and you will tell your  _friends_ ," here, her sneered, "that you have been asked to complete an extra-curricular project. It is simple – do not attempt to over-think it. You will also be learning a small range of advanced potions and defensive spells in return for your assistance, as you will need to acquire some level of competence with them to complete your work."

"Yes, sir," she muttered, "When would you like me to start?"

"Tomorrow morning. You will come to my office at exactly eight and I will show you where you will work." He looked her up and down, lip curled in apparent disgust. "Be dressed appropriately for potions work and do not be late."

"Yes, sir," She replied awaiting her dismissal.

"Leave," he snarled, flicking the door open.

Hermione jumped at his tone and, picking up her bag, scurried out the door.


	5. ~ Debut

Hermione ate a light lunch before her appointment and hurried to the Room of Requirement, where she quickly flooed to Fiendfyre's. Conjuring a mirror, she began to carefully assemble her _glamours_ , ensuring they were as strong and flawless as possible.

She had just vanished the mirror and made herself comfortable on her cushion when Marian and the seamstress arrived, bursting through the door in a flurry of colour and noise. They were arguing about "too much skin" and "she's only a trainee," to which Marian replied, "Nonsense! Masters Abraxas and Tobias will be here tonight and I will  _not_  have her overdressed. Master Tobias is highly sought after and he has refused to collar anyone for years. Besides, I have found his perfect match."

"Master Tobias would hex you black and blue for that." The seamstress tutted and Hermione looked up through her lashes at the two women. Standing not far behind her Mistress was an older witch with a narrow, pinched face and sharp hazel eyes. Her hair, long ago turned white, hung in two tight plaits that bumped against her hips as she moved.

The two witches discussed the matter some more, before turning their attention to Hermione. Marian strode to the centre of the room and cradled Hermione's cheek affectionately. She then directed her to stand and transfigured the cushion into a footstool for Hermione to stand on.

A rush of cool air hit her skin as her uniform disappeared, reappearing in a neatly folded pile on the mantle just seconds later. After looking her over, the seamstress conjured a deep purple corset, trimmed with black lace, which sat just below her breasts, pushing them up and together.

The idea was immediately dismissed by Marian. “No. You know Master Tobias will want to paint her. He won’t appreciate having to remove a corset.”

The seamstress huffed. “You are impossible, Marian Rosier.”

“Not impossible – just difficult.”

The older woman rolled her eyes and turned back to Hermione. “Tell me what you had in mind.”

After thinking for a moment, Marian stepped closer to Hermione and traced the tip of her wand across the girl’s skin. A bright trail of white light, as wide as two thumbs placed side-by-side, was left in its wake. When she was done, there was a ring framing her navel, and from each side the thread wrapped around her back, and then back to the front, crossing her breasts so as to hide her nipples and then about her neck. Another trail of light encircled her, just below her hips, connected to a second ring at the front. The last strand of light dipped down between her thighs, joining to the back. Having watched carefully, the seamstress stepped forward and her own wand trailed over the young witch’s flesh, leaving a red light in its wake.

When she was done, the lines around Hermione’s upper torso had remained untouched. The bottom half, however, had been completely replaced by something akin to a thong, with a ring nestled on either hip to hold it all together. The entire thing was joined by threads of light that ran from her navel to her hips.

Marian nodded appreciatively, then muttered, “Smart arse.”

The seamstress snickered. “That’s why _I_ make clothes and _you_ train submissives.”

Marian glared half-heartedly at the older witch. “Shall we take tea now and finish this afterwards, or will we take tea when we have finished?”

“If your submissive is comfortable as she is, we might discuss materials over tea,” the seamstress answered.

“Very well. Leda?”

“I’m fine, Mistress,” Hermione said, nodding slightly.

“Good. You may join us if you would like,” Marian offered.

Hermione hesitated for a moment, before responding, “I think I’d like that.” As an afterthought, she added, “Where may I sit.”

Marian smiled proudly. “Take an armchair.”

Once they were all seated, Marian called Pippi and requested tea and some sandwiches. The little elf nodded, winked out and reappeared moments later with a tray of sandwiches and a tea service. She placed everything on the coffee table, then began pouring cups of tea. Once the elf had left, they sat quietly, sipping their tea.

After a while, the seamstress sat her teacup back on its saucer and turned to Marian. “I do believe I forgot to introduce myself.”

“Yes – because you were too busy trying to over-dress my trainee,” Marian answered, smirking into her tea.

The older witch rolled her eyes and held her hand out to Hermione. “My name is Constance, but please call me Connie.”

Hermione hurried to place her teacup back on the saucer so she could shake the woman’s hand. She looked to Marian, who nodded subtly, then introduced herself, “I’m Leda. Nice to meet you.”

“What a lovely name. Greek, isn’t it?”

Hermione nodded. “Yes, ma’am.”

“Not your own, I suppose?”

“No, it isn’t,” Hermione answered.

“Do you still attend Hogwarts?” Connie asked, taking a sip of her tea.

“Yes. I’m in sixth year,” Hermione said, smiling.

Connie turned to Marian. “Sixth?”

“She was a year older than her peers starting out and a time-turner has aged her an extra year. Biologically, she is eighteen,” Marian explained.

Connie nodded thoughtfully. “Interesting.”

The trio continued to chatter over tea and sandwiches, before returning to their work. They had decided on black satin with silver rings and Connie spent several minutes conjuring strips of the material and arranging it to follow the lines marked on Hermione’s body. She would occasionally pause and tap her wand to a section where the material overlapped to hold the pieces in place. When Marian and Connie were both satisfied with the positioning, the seamstress conjured three silver rings and attached them to the material, ensuring that it was secure, before dispersing the charm used to sketch the lines on her body.

The two women stepped back to admire their work and smiled. “I think we have done well,” Marian commented.

“ _‘We’_ indeed,” Connie replied, rolling her eyes.

Marian reached over and swatted the older witch on the shoulder.

Connie swatted Marian in return and turned to leave. “I’d best be off. Shall I check in with the others on my way out?”

“If you would,” Marian answered, walking her to the door.

“Consider it done.”

Once they were alone, Marian removed the glamours and began to reapply them, layering in several makeup charms as she went. Her eyes were lined with kohl and given a dark smoky-eye look, and her lips painted with glossy, black lipstick. Her hair – _glamoured_ , as usual – to appear slightly shorter and several shades darker, was curled loosely, supported securely with a number of charms, and left to flow freely over her shoulders.

Marian checked several times whether the _glamours_ were secure, occasionally adding another layer or touching up a flaw. Eventually, she added a few charms to distract anyone who might recognise her and smiled, satisfied with her work.

With the look complete, Marian led Hermione from the room and down the corridor into a larger chamber. A group of women sat on couches of a wine-red leather, each wearing a bespoke outfit.

An identical pair with platinum blonde hair and matching ensembles turned to greet the new addition to their group. They moved more fluidly together than even Fred and George and before Hermione had a chance to blink, they had produced a black ribbon and were tying it around her neck in a delicate bow.

Marian grasped Hermione's shoulders to turn her around, taking in her appearance. "Are you ready?" she asked.

"I think so," Hermione responded after a short pause.

"Good girl," the older witch smiled, pulling Hermione into a tight hug. "Now, the main podium will be green tonight and the others black. Tonight, the green is yours. The other girls you see here are submissives who have not yet been collared. They will be on other podiums around the room. You will be attended at regular intervals by a group of collared women, who will stand you up, check your blood flow and massage your muscles to relax them. They will also help you to get back into position. I have already mentioned that Masters Abraxas and Tobias are expected to attend tonight. Master Tobias has not taken a submissive in several years and I believe you will be able to catch his eye. If we are lucky, you won't be kneeling for very long."

"Although he  _is_  known to be an evil bastard at times," interjected a short, brown-haired girl.

"Yes, well I did say 'if we are lucky,' did I not?" Marian replied with a sigh, "We are, however, fortunate enough to have Master Abraxas attending as well. He and Master Tobias often work together and Master Abraxas' attention is much more easily caught."

Before any more could be said, Pippi popped in, holding a pair of black high heels, open with criss-crossed straps all the way up the foot, ending at the ankle. "Pippi has charmed Missy's shoes! They will be very comfortable all night," the little elf squeaked, the socks on her ears flopping about as her head bobbed. "Missy looks very beautiful. Master Tobias will surely want to play with Missy!"

"Thank you, Pippi," Marian said patiently, "Please help Leda into her shoes. Bianca, if you would balance her?"

"Yes, Mistress," answered the brown-haired girl, stepping forward to hold Hermione steady, while Pippi placed the shoes on her feet.

Even with the ridiculously high heels, Hermione was still shorter than most of the women in the room.

Seemingly reading her thoughts, Marian smirked and, with a hand on her lower back, led her to the door, ready to step out when instructed. "Don't worry, Masters Abraxas and Tobias both prefer smaller women – it’s a male thing. Some Dominants may request to play, in which case, you will do as you are instructed by them – unless it contradicts anything I have already said. I will be setting limits tonight as you are very inexperienced, however you may still find yourself challenged. If you find you are unable to endure an activity, do not hesitate to us your safe word – Arithmancy. Now, you should all know your positions in the line – Leda first, Bianca, twins… Good. You know what to do. Ready?"

Everyone answered in the affirmative and the girls formed a line behind Hermione.

Marian inspected each girl carefully and then, with a nod of approval, left the room to begin the formal opening of the night.

Once she had left, Bianca lightly touched Hermione’s shoulder and leaned forward to whisper in her ear, “Good luck. I hope you get Master Tobias.”

Several minutes later, a young woman with a strip of red leather around her neck opened the door and instructed the girls to follow in their line. At the front of the line, Hermione moved forward and the other girls fell into step behind her, eyes downcast as Marian had trained them. The lines split off into two, one twin on each side. They completed the parade with perfect timing and one-by-one, the girls dropped off to take their places on the podiums. The last to go was Bianca, leaving to find her place just after the twins, who broke off together to share one podium. Hermione suddenly found herself standing alone before her podium, a brightly lit green that reminded her of the Forbidden Forest’s leaves, and which was about a foot or so taller than the rest.

Marian stood beside it, looking out into the small crowd. "Tonight, I am presenting my newest trainee, Leda, who has been with us for eight weeks. Those wishing to play with her will do so under my supervision and on display only. As she is still a trainee, all play will be restricted within certain parameters, depending on the request – impact play, should I choose to allow it, will require a lengthy discussion beforehand." At the end of her introduction, the woman who had collected them from the room gently nudged Hermione forward, indicating she should climb the stairs onto the platform. Marian then instructed her to turn slowly so that everyone could see her, before gesturing for her to kneel on the cushion at the top.

She did so quickly, ensuring she was positioned correctly so that she would be able to maintain the stance for as long as necessary.

After the first half hour of people coming and going, two women came over to her and helped her to stand. Each of them had a different coloured collar around their neck. Once Hermione was on her feet and balanced on the high stilettos, they cast a series of diagnostic charms and then gently massaged her legs, arms and lower back to get the blood flowing. She was then instructed to slowly turn a full circle to show herself off to the groups of dominants – some with their submissives – who had come to watch. Hermione suppressed a shiver at being so openly ogled. It was difficult to tell whether it was pleasure, trepidation or a mixture of the two. Her turn complete, the women helped her back into position, before leaving to attend their other duties.

Several men – and even a few women – came to inspect her. Most would simply circle the podium from a distance, but a few came closer. Of those, perhaps half touched her – a delicious mix of rough and smooth, prod and caress. Some talked to Marian and several times Hermione saw her Mistress shaking her head.

A group of several young men remained close by for quite some time, leering at her. Several times, she suppressed a shudder at the feeling of eyes on her body. Marian had been watching them since they had arrived, but allowed them to stay as long as they kept their distance and didn’t disturb anyone else.

Nearly two hours into the Showcase, a streak of blue flashed over the crowd, and Marian ducked into a side room, joined immediately by the shapeless light. Hermione could only conclude it was a patronus.  When Marian returned to the dungeon, she flicked her wand and the temperature of the room – or perhaps just Hermione's podium – fell. It wasn't enough to be uncomfortable, but the chill in the air made her nipples tighten, forming an obvious peak beneath the satin.

Marian proceeded to inspect all of the girls on display, correcting posture and ensuring their outfits, hair and _glamours_ were immaculate.  When she reached Hermione, she ran her fingers through the young woman’s hair, moving it about so that her face was framed nicely. She cast diagnostics on the _glamours_ to see that they were intact and still strong, then made some last-minute adjustments to her outfit. Marian tugged the satin sitting over her nipples so that they pressed into the centre of the strips, creating a clear peak, while still preserving her modesty. She also moved the pieces around her waist so that they sat properly to compliment her figure and created a discrete split in the crotch of her bottoms, whispering that it would allow better access.

The hushed murmurs started shortly after Marian had finished. Hermione had been kneeling on the podium for well over two hours by then and, from her elevated position, she could see the crowd beginning to part.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Someone asked to rewrite this story not long ago... I asked for a draft... I made a mistake... They essentially wanted to use my plot with different characters and tried to smoosh Marian and another character into one and he turned out like a pervy headmaster. My editor read only the first two paragraphs - OF 16 PAGES - and told me to print it purely for the sake of burning it. I did not. I did, however politely decline their request to write the story.


	6. ~ The Masters

They walked shoulder-to-shoulder; two tall figures gliding through the parting crowd. Matching black robes, trimmed with delicate silver, swirled behind them with an elegance that reminded Hermione of Professor Snape’s billowing robes. They headed directly for the podium she was knelt on, Marian stood proudly beside her. The Domme greeted each of them with a bright smile.

The taller of the two had light grey eyes and lank, blond hair reaching just past his shoulders. His features were severe, but not unattractive, with an aquiline nose that was, perhaps, slightly too large for his face. His lips were full, but drawn into a thin line as Marian released him from a tight hug and he stood straight again. Hermione could only interpret his expression as one of displeasure, although she couldn’t for the life of her understand why.  The other man, maybe an inch or so shorter, smirked at the discomfort of his companion. He was strikingly handsome, with dark eyes set in aristocratic features and sleek black hair that fell to his waist.  Their hair shimmered slightly as they moved, giving the impression that they were using _glamours_.

Marian gestured for Bianca to take their cloaks and began leading them briefly around the podiums. As they walked, Hermione was able to better see their figures. The taller man was lanky, a bit on the skinny side, but evidently well-toned. His raven-haired companion was more muscular, she decided, and yet lean. It fit the dignified demeanour.  Their tour of the podiums was punctuated with the occasional praising comment or sharp reprimand for the girl in question. Hermione hastily averted her eyes and corrected her posture as the trio finished with Bianca, who had taken their cloaks and returned to her podium. They turned in her direction, finally coming to a halt directly in front of her.

"This is my newest trainee, Leda. She has proven herself to be a fast learner and a natural submissive – very confident in her body and highly obedient. She can move confidently in little more than her heels and bracelets and is now quite flexible enough for any type of play even the two of you could devise," Marian explained.

Hermione suppressed the urge to look up as one of the men muttered, "Leda..." as if testing the name for himself. His voice sounded oddly familiar and Hermione mentally urged him to speak again in the hope of identifying the strange man.

"Her mind is strong," came another, deeper voice, presumably that of the other man, “I can barely read her surface thoughts – but she would like to hear your voice again.”

"Is that so?" the first man purred, "Perhaps we should request a session."

"I believe so. I would like to see how she reacts to proper play.” The second man's voice also sounded familiar, but Hermione could place neither and instead focussed on the conversation at hand.

"Mistress Marian, we would like to request a session with your trainee, if you will permit us?"

"Of course, Master Abraxas. Tonight is her first public event, so I would like her to remain there on display. There will be no impact play and I would like her to remain pure – entirely, Master Abraxas." The last was said in a warning tone that brooked no argument and Hermione could almost imagine her Mistress shaking her finger at the two men. The second man snickered.

"If you say so, Madam," said that almost obnoxiously smooth voice.

"Look at me, girl," said the deeper of the two voices, clearly directing his command at Hermione.

Obedient but nervous, she slowly lifted her head and her gaze met that of the taller, silver-eyed man, whose eyes narrowed back at her. "She is  _glamoured_?"

"To preserve her identity, yes," Marian answered. "Her features are mostly natural, though."

The man grunted, "Good." His eyes roved over her nearly-naked body. "I am Master Tobias. You will address me as such, or as 'Sir'. I am going to use hot wax to decorate your body, whilst Master Abraxas ties you. Remain still and silent unless you are told otherwise. If you are unable to follow these instructions, you will be punished.” His tone was commanding and he turned to Marian. “What is her experience with wax and ropes?"

"None," Marian replied.

"Very well. We will take that into consideration."

"Tobias, you've rather spoiled my fun now," complained the other man, " _I_  wanted to introduce us." He pouted, then shrugged and continued speaking, "No matter. Stand, darling; I would like to inspect you."

Hermione quickly did as she was instructed, moving fluidly onto high-heeled feet.

"She moves quite well, doesn't she, Tobias?"

"Indeed, she does. Have you devised a safe word, Marian?"

Marian tutted. “Of course I have; it’s ‘Arithmancy’.”

Master Tobias raised an eyebrow amusedly. “I see.”

Hermione stood perfectly still as the two men inspected her from all angles, and then returned to her knees upon instruction. With a flourish of their wands, the pair conjured their equipment and set to work. Master Abraxas began by wrapping ropes of soft, black cotton around her body, carefully binding her arms behind her back with her hands clasped and elbows almost touching. He encased the entire length of her forearms in the black rope, then used a series of dark brown ropes to twist around her upper arms, branching out at seemingly random intervals to spread across her back in a twisting pattern with no clear rhyme or reason. When he was done with the brown rope, Master Abraxas helped her to her feet, legs apart. He conjured more black rope and, tying it from her wrists, created a series of twisting, zig-zagging lines, charmed to stay in place, down her back and onto her legs, over the curve of her arse. More black rope was conjured – finer this time, like black string – and joined to the thicker lengths. With a few flicks of his wand, he charmed them to stand stiffly, creating a pattern that looked like black roots across her pale flesh.

Master Tobias flicked his wand and watched as Hermione was lifted off the ground and turned so that she was floating face-down. The platform had grown to accommodate their play and so that only Masters Tobias and Abraxas could see what was being done to her.

A moment later, Hermione felt her hair being brushed out of the way and secured with a charm, then hot wax began dripping onto her skin, filling the gaps between the lengths of brown rope with large drops. Hermione found the feeling strange, but not altogether uncomfortable. In fact, the hot wax dropping onto her cool flesh was something akin to putting on freshly ironed clothes – warm and comforting – but the wax also sent a hot buzz through her body that pooled in her groin. It made her want to squirm and beg – for what, she couldn’t decide.

Done for the time being, Master Tobias placed the dark brown candle, flecked with glimmering gold, onto a newly-conjured table which sat just within her view.  He picked up a candle that was a mix of bright, vibrant green and the dark, elegant green often associated with Slytherin house. She felt a line of heat drip across her back in line with her elbows, then there were several thin flicks of wax that streaked up from the slightly uneven line across her back.

More drops were placed, seemingly randomly, across her back between the line level with her elbows and where the ropes began to splay out like the fingers of a spread hand. What felt like hundreds of droplets fell on and between the splayed ropes.

Without putting down the green candle, Master Tobias picked up another. It was bright orange, marbled with red and yellow in such a way that it looked like a tongue of fire had been caught to be preserved for eternity. She soon understood why the green candle had not been put aside as drops began falling in pairs where green wax had already been poured and later in new places. Lone drops continued to fall as the green candle was placed on the table, though these were smaller than any she had previously felt – barely a fleck. Larger trails of wax began to fall, mingling with the line of green and swirling down either side of her bound arms. Once again, he picked up a new candle when he was done, this time a deep black with silver flecks glittering within.  More tiny beads fell onto her lower back and exposed bottom and she nearly shuddered at the feel of it.

"Tobias," Master Abraxas called suddenly. "Do you smell that?"

Master Tobias paused and inhaled deeply. "Indeed I do, Abraxas." Hermione felt herself turn and found herself suddenly face up, looking into Master Tobias' smirking face. "Arousal."

"Ah, the sweet smell of a sopping cunt," sighed the raven-haired man.

Master Tobias' smirk broadened. "What do you want? You may speak, girl."

"Please," Hermione panted, "Please." So focussed had she been on staying silent that she hadn't quite realised just how aroused she had become.

"'Please,' what?" Master Abraxas teased.

"Please, Sir," she mewled, "I want you to touch me."

Tobias turned to Marian, blond brow arched. "Marian?"

Marian huffed. "Touch only. Nothing more, Abraxas," she warned, glaring at the shorter man.

"As you wish, Marian," he smoothed, bowing deeply, a cheeky grin on his face.

She glared some more, then relented. "Fine. Go ahead."

Master Abraxas’ grin morphed into a salacious smirk. "Keep quiet as long as you can, little one. I want to see what your control is like."

"And do not come," Master Tobias added.

Hermione nodded her acknowledgement and the two men set to work. Master Tobias smirked, knelt beside her and moved a strip of satin aside, revealing a hardened, pink nipple.  Dipping his head, he blew cool air on her taut nipple, then flicked the tight peak with his tongue. Half a moment later, he had sucked it into his hot mouth, applying gentle pressure and rolling it around with his tongue. When Hermione was clenching her jaw and arching into his mouth, he bit lightly on the little nub, then released it with a pop. His teeth scraped along the pebbled flesh as he did so. She screwed her eyes shut as hot wax immediately landed on her abused nipple, coating it in shining, pale gold.

A smooth, long-fingered hand trailed down from Hermione’s navel, cupping her mons and making her jerk, eyes flying open at the sudden pressure on such a sensitive place.  Still, she bit her tongue and remained silent. Master Abraxas was stroking his fingers up and down the black satin covering her crotch, a smirk coming to his perfect lips as he found the discretely placed slit.

_Perfect? They are rather beautiful, aren't they?_

Master Tobias snorted.

“What?”

“She thinks you have pretty lips,” Master Tobias answered, his tone teasing.

Hermione's cheeks turned a deep crimson, the blush spreading down her neck and onto the tops of her heaving breasts. _Well I wouldn’t mind having either or your lips, actually_. She corrected in her head, earning another amused snort from Master Tobias, who was on his way under her levitating body to reach her other side.

"Only because mine do this –" he rumbled softly, dipping his head once again to take her bare nipple into his skilled mouth. Hermione arched her back, her mouth falling open in a lax 'O'. Master Tobias bit down on her nipple, scraping his teeth along the erect flesh before sucking lightly and releasing it again. More hot wax landed on her sensitive flesh. Hermione looked into his silver eyes and she could have sworn they turned black, just for a split second, before returning to their familiar silver-grey.

She was distracted an instant later as the fingers that had been tracing light swirls on her inner thighs suddenly disappeared. She mourned the loss for a moment before a firm, but light slap landed on her clothed pussy, sending a jolt of fire racing through her body from her over-sensitive clit.

Seconds later, a head of raven hair was buried between her thighs, lapping at the dripping juices there. As Master Abraxas sucked her clit into his mouth, she was vaguely aware of a line of heat being run from one wax-coated nipple, down to her belly button and back up to the other nipple. There was a brief pause. Hermione felt the tip of a finger teasing her soaked entrance. The finger plunged inside her – right down to the third knuckle – and two perfectly straight, parallel trails of wax crossed her torso, just beneath her breasts.  She opened her eyes in time to see the pale gold candle being put down, while the black one from earlier traced a line from the one below her breasts, up to the dip at the base of her neck. Master Abraxas gave his partner-in-crime a wicked smirk from between Hermione’s thighs. She felt the finger, which had been slowly thrusting into her, curl in a come-hither motion. After several repetitions, she had to close her eyes and clench her jaw to stop herself from moaning loudly – as it was, she couldn’t help letting out a tiny whimper, which quickly turned into a tortured whine.

Just as she thought she would come, Master Abraxas paused his manipulations and added a second finger. He hissed as she clamped around the two digits. "We'll be fighting over her first time."

"And the rest," Master Tobias replied. A flick of his elegant wand, which struck Hermione as oddly familiar, turned the light on the podium a stunning shade of sky blue. She barely noticed the light, however, as Master Abraxas was holding her skilfully on the very edge of orgasm, keeping her stimulated to the point that she was almost in pain from the sheer pleasure, but not quite stimulated enough to come.

She felt a tingling sensation around her head and, a moment later found herself dangling upside-down, still levitated off the ground. The gathered crowd, which she had failed to notice, was staring at her body in awe. On her front, now clear as she was hanging upside-down, were the initials 'A' and 'T'. The two letters shared a stroke which formed the bar of the 'A' and the arm of the 'T'. The former was drawn with a shining pale gold wax and the latter with the same silver-flecked black that had also been used on her back the two colours meeting in the same place as the letters themselves.

When the crowd had finished ogling her upturned body and the letters adorning her front, Master Tobias once again flicked his wand and she was turned so that her back was facing the crowd to reveal the intricate marriage of rope and wax adorning her back.

The crowd fell silent with awe as they took in the view before them.           


	7. ~ Trust And Terror

Despite her earlier, uncontrollable writhing, the wax was still perfectly intact, a thin shell over her back. It formed a beautifully intricate tree set aflame. The roots were shown by the winding lengths of brown rope woven across her shoulders and upper back; wax of gold-flecked brown became the soil between them. A layer of green atop the soil created a grassy surface, with flyaway streaks scattered here and there to look like thick tufts of grass. Black rope and strings were to be the almost skeletal outline of the scorched tree proper, with widespread branches. Green wax mixed with yellow-and-red streaked orange to form leaves falling from the boughs, burning in a beautiful maelstrom. Streaks and patches of the marbled orange were the tongues of flame scorching the grass, lapping at the trunk of the tree and giving it a bright crown of dancing fire. Glittering black wax, tiny flecks here and there, formed ash that seemed to drift to the burning ground. A sky-blue light gave her pale flesh a soft tint that became the bright blue sky in the scene the two skilled masters had created.

“Come,” Master Tobias commanded.

Without warning, Master Abraxas dipped his head between her legs and sucked her clit into his mouth, biting softly on the tender flesh. She had been teetering on the edge of a delicious precipice, and it was enough to thrust her over as waves of pleasure engulfed her. With a loud moan tearing from her throat, her body jerked hard against his mouth.

When he decided to prolong the intense sensations for longer than she thought possible, Hermione began to writhe and moan, causing the artwork on her back to sway as if blown by a strong wind, the tiny pieces of glitter embedded in the wax shimmering in the light.

She groaned softly, sweat dampening her hairline, as the sensations became unbearable and she screwed her eyes shut, silently begging for it to end.

Master Tobias held up his hand and muttered, "Stop. That's enough for now."

Master Abraxas slowly removed his hands and stepped back. "She has done well, given her inexperience."

"Exceedingly. Will you manage aftercare while I talk with Marian?" Master Tobias flicked his wand once again and Hermione landed lightly on her feet. When she swayed, a firm hand between her shoulder blades steadied her and remained there in case she should become unsteady again.

From behind her, she heard a soft, "Yes, go. Arrange more sessions with this one. With Marian's permission, we might take over her training."

"That won't happen," Master Tobias replied, sweeping away without waiting for a response.

Master Abraxas shook his head and set to work on methodically removing the wax and ropes from her body and rearranging the satin strips to sit in their original places. Hermione had to bite back more than a few sighs at the sensation of his gentle hands tracing slowly over her hot, flushed skin. When the ropes and wax were gone and her outfit restored to its original condition, Master Abraxas gently massaged her arms and shoulders to relax the strained muscles. He did the same for her quivering legs and placed a soft kiss on her tummy. He stood once more and, with a finger curled under her chin, tilted her head up so that he could look into her eyes.

"You have been a very good girl, Leda. Tobias may not show it, but we are both very impressed with your talent," Master Abraxas said, just loud enough for her to hear. "Just stay here a little while longer and I will attempt to convince Marian to allow us a private session."

Hermione nodded.

"Speak, little one," he commanded.

"Yes Sir. Thank you," she replied breathlessly.

“Good girl. Now, get back into position and we will collect you momentarily.”

Hermione nodded and obediently dropped to her knees, quickly getting back into position. Master Abraxas placed an affectionate hand atop her head, and a tingle of magic brushed through her hair as his fingers swept it back into place. He then proceeded off the platform to join Master Tobias in sweet-talking Marian.

The trio remained mostly out of earshot for Hermione but, by watching through her lashes, she could somewhat follow the conversation. She saw that Master Abraxas had suggested something the Domme didn’t like; Marian was glaring coldly at a grinning Master Abraxas. Master Tobias was smirking at his companion’s blunder, whilst simultaneously trying to look innocent. Still, it seemed to Hermione that she was relenting slowly.

While Hermione was concentrating on trying to determine the direction of the conversation between her Mistress and the two Masters, she didn't notice that most of the crowd had dispersed, nor that one person – a wizard – had moved around behind her and cast  _Silencio_.

Her scream went unheard as a hand grasped her roughly by the hair and she was dragged violently to her feet. Her assailant conjured a set of wooden stocks and forced her to bend at the waist, securing her in position, before a strip of leather landed hard across her lower back, something – metal, she guessed – at the tip biting into the side of her hip. Her calls for help died before they could be uttered and the strip of leather connected with her thighs. Tears began rolling down her cheeks as another strike landed across her rear, followed by two more – one striking each side of her bum, the once-cold tip breaking the skin in places.

After what felt like an eternity, and thousands of harsh, biting blows, a high-pitched shriek sounded from the direction of Bianca’s podium as the short-haired woman leapt to her feet and rushed to defend the younger girl. The sudden noise and swift movement caught the attention of Marian and the two wizards whose expressions darkened immediately.

Faster than she could blink, Master Tobias had his wand in his hand and had stunned the wizard, who had been lifting the belt in preparation for another strike. Master Abraxas was at her side in an instant and began carefully removing the bindings that held her in position. When she was free, he pulled her into his broad chest and cradled her there. When he had secured his grip on her trembling body, he tapped his wand to her jaw, dissolving the silencing charm.

From her place within Master Abraxas' arms, she peeked out just in time to see the stunned wizard recover and leap to his feet, ready to duel. She recognised the man as one of the group who had been watching her all night. Master Tobias let out a feral growl that reminded her distinctly of Professor Snape when he was angry at Harry – albeit far more ferocious – and flicked his wand. The other wizard hurtled back into the wall, where he found himself petrified and securely bound, his wand confiscated and handed to Marian for safekeeping.

Master Tobias crouched over the man and stared – or glared – into his wide eyes for a brief moment. When he stood, he immediately turned to Marian and reported, "He's not one of ours, and clearly doesn't know or care for the rules – he's completely pissed."

"Take him to Fabian. This is a matter he will want to handle immediately," Master Abraxas added. He looked down at the witch shaking in his arms. "She's quite shaken. With your permission, Marian, I'll take her to our private room while you and Tobias deal with this scum?"

With a sigh, Marian nodded and answered, "Yes. I think it best we get him to Fabian as quickly as possible. I will have Pippi bring you some bruise paste and we will meet you there when we are done."

Master Abraxas nodded and scooped the little witch up into his arms so that he could carry her to his private rooms. Her arms immediately wrapped around his neck and she buried her face into his neck. On their way past, the two men exchanged a look, nodding solemnly to each other. Master Tobias waited until the traumatised young witch was out of sight, then levitated the troublemaker behind him as he made his way to the nearest open floo, not caring whether it was his head or feet that dragged on the floor.

When Master Abraxas opened the door to their private room, Pippi was already waiting with a jar of bruise paste and a large, white towel, her eyes wide and brimming with tears.

Upon seeing the pair, Pippi sniffled and said, "Mistress told Pippi to bring bruise paste for the Missy and a towel so she could bathe. Mistress also said it is okay for Missy to remove her glamours around Master Abraxas if she wants to."

Master Abraxas arched a sharp brow, "Is that so? Well, I for one would certainly like to see what is under the charms and makeup but, first, perhaps we should tend your injuries?"

Hermione nodded and he placed her gently on her feet. Pippi handed him the jar of bruise paste, placed the towel on a nearby table and winked out.

"Bend over, sweet," he commanded softly, "I won't hurt you."

Hermione looked around nervously, before leaning over the arm of a soft, dark green sofa. She gasped softly as the satin that had been barely covering her body disappeared entirely. Her skin tingled as he healed the litany of tiny cuts covering her rump and the larger one where the metal tip of the belt had struck the bony part of her hip. He stopped briefly to unscrew the jar of bruise paste and a warm hand began rubbing cold gel on her bruised backside. When the paste had been thoroughly rubbed into her skin, Master Abraxas gently pulled her back to stand up straight and once again held her to his chest. After a short moment of comfortable silence, he released her and showed her to the bathroom.

"Shall I join you?" he asked, flicking his wand to start the taps on the bath.

Hermione nodded, not wanting to be left alone after her recent experience.

"I won't punish you for speaking, sweetheart," he coaxed in an attempt to make her talk.

"I know," she mumbled, wrapping her arms tightly around herself.

"Do not fear, sweet thing. Nothing will happen whilst we are here. This is the private room that only Tobias and myself can access – aside from Marian, Fabian and the elves, of course," he assured her.

As the bath filled, he began slowly removing his layers of clothing – all but a pair of black silk boxers, which he left on for her benefit. The rest of his clothes were folded and left in a neat pile on the counter. A flick of his wand turned off the taps and he stepped into the bath, before offering his hand to the little witch to help her in. She placed her hand – much smaller and quite dainty by comparison – in his and held it tightly whilst she stepped into the warm, bubbly water with unsteady legs. Master Abraxas then sat, pulling her gently into his lap so that her chest was pressed against his, her head resting on his shoulder.

Hermione sighed and closed her eyes. For some strange reason, she felt perfectly safe with this man and sitting together so intimately, skin-to-skin, was quite comforting.

"Shall I guess your identity?" he murmured after a short while, his arms snaking around her waist and pulling her body more firmly into his.

"If you like," she replied, bringing her own arms up to wrap around his torso. She decided she would be perfectly content to lay in his arms for the next hundred years.

"Shall I begin with house? Slytherin?"

She smiled. "No, Sir."

“Ravenclaw?” He asked, pursing his lips when she shook her head, “Hufflepuff?”

“No, Sir.”

“And you’re definitely not a Slytherin?”

"No, Sir, but I suppose you might be?" she asked.

"How have you come to that conclusion?" He smiled, bending to place a soft peck on her shoulder.

"The way you hold yourself, your patience, the décor in your private room… and the fact that you asked twice," Hermione replied, unconsciously tilting her head to allow him better access.

"I see. Well, you must be a Gryffindor – though I'd say the hat struggled with that decision because you showed more restraint today than any Gryffindor I've ever known. So, little lioness, do you still attend Hogwarts, or are you alumnus like myself?" He dropped another kiss at the junction of her neck and shoulder.

"I'm still attending," she answered.

He smiled and nipped her neck. "A naughty little schoolgirl, then. Seventh year?"

"Sixth. I'm older than my peers."

"Not interested in boys your own age?"

"They're immature and inexperienced. They have no idea what to do – at least I've bothered to read up on the subject." she responded, trailing off into a breathy moan as his teeth clamped lightly on her earlobe.

Master Abraxas tugged gently on her earlobe and placed another kiss just below and behind her ear. "So, my little lioness is a bookworm? How fitting. Tobias is also an avid reader and I have quite the library."

She smiled. "Do you know who I am yet?"

"I have my suspicions, however I couldn't imagine this particular Gryffindor being such a lovely little deviant," he paused, then purred lowly in her ear, his hot breath fanning across her face, "Perhaps you should show me."

She bit back a moan and silently summoned her wand to her hand. With a flick of her wrist, the glamours disintegrated, taking with them the makeup charms.

"You might be surprised," she muttered back, turning her head to look into his eyes.

Master Abraxas had just opened his mouth to say something when the door flew open to admit a seething Master Tobias.

"I see Marian let her decide whether to reveal herself to you."

"She did – I take it Marian told you."

"Yes, and I'm surprised the little chit has such great self-control when she certainly doesn't show it in class," Master Tobias replied grumpily.

Hermione looked stunned and Master Abraxas chuckled, earning himself a glare from his fellow Master.

"Tobias is Fiendfyres' contact at Hogwarts, however he is a grumpy bastard – it will be at his discretion that he reveals his true identity." He dropped his voice to a whisper then, "But you might discover it for yourself if you pay enough attention."

Marian huffed from the doorway. "I told you to put the bruise paste on. That was not an invitation to join her in the bath."

Before Abraxas or Hermione could respond, Master Tobias interrupted, “I’d hazard a guess that she didn’t much want to be alone, after that incident. Once Abraxas offered, as we know he would have, she would almost certainly have accepted.”

Marian looked between Tobias and the two in the bathtub and hung her head with a sigh, saying, "I suppose I can let you off – just this once, mind. Now it is time to get out and get Hermione home."

"As you wish," Master Abraxas replied, helping her to her feet before allowing Master Tobias to bundle her into a towel and help her out of the bath.

With the help of her Mistress, Hermione was soon dried, dressed and on her way back to Hogwarts, where she crept silently to her room, narrowly avoiding Filch and his dreaded cat. When she got to her room, she set an alarm for the morning, changed into her pyjamas and went to bed, falling asleep the second her head hit the pillow.


	8. ~ The Failed Spy

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey, dudes! Here’s the next chapter! I’m currently on a train headed for Hellfire, so there will be no responses to anything until I’m sober again!

Hermione woke before her alarm with a throbbing bottom and aching muscles. The latter brought with it memories of pleasure, fun, heat – trust, even, but the throbbing pain in her rear only served to remind her how quickly bliss could become misery. At least Marian had sent her home with some bruise paste. Checking that nobody was awake to see her, she slipped out of bed and padded silently across the room to the bathroom. Once there, she stripped, applied the paste, then dressed in her running clothes and left for her morning run.

When she reached the lake, the black-haired figure was there again. This time he stood at the tree line whilst he removed his black t-shirt and tracksuit bottoms. She ducked behind a large tree trunk where she couldn’t be so easily seen and made her way around the lake as quickly as possible, remaining hidden in the foliage.  When he made to swim along the perimeter of the lake, she slowed her pace, safe in the knowledge that a lap around the lake would take him quite a while.

When she finally reached the boulder under which he had placed his clothes, she conjured a mirror and applied her  _glamours_ , figuring it would be safer to be recognised as Leda than as Hermione. With her  _glamours_  in place, she transfigured her baggy trackies into a pair of tightly-fitted black leggings and her oversized t-shirt into a loose, white crop top that didn't quite reach her belly-button. When she was done and certain that the strange man wouldn't recognise her, she kicked off her shoes and stuffed her socks inside them for safekeeping, then clambered up the side of the boulder to sit atop it.

Hermione waited patiently for the stranger to return, taking the time to tweak her  _glamours_ , ensuring they were absolutely perfect. When he finally reached the home stretch and was swimming in her direction, Hermione slid slowly down to lay flat against the rock and moved away from the edge, just out of sight. A one-way transparency charm cast on the boulder allowed her to see him quite easily without putting herself in danger of being spotted.

It had been her intention to wait until the stranger returned to retrieve his clothes and then confront him. However, as was often the case when any of the so-called Golden Trio were involved, things didn't quite go to plan. This time, her plans were derailed by the sudden arrival of a third party.

He moved so silently that she hadn't even noticed him climbing onto the rock with her – until he leaned down to place a kiss on her neck, long, black hair falling down over her shoulder in a soft curtain. Hermione jumped, earning herself a chuckle.

"Spying, Miss Granger? Really?" he muttered, nipping her earlobe as he had just hours before at Fiendfyres'.

She smiled. "Sneaking up on vulnerable young girls on school grounds, Sir?" she quipped.

"Touché," he answered, placing another kiss on her neck. "How is your delightful little bottom doing?"

"It's still sore – I was going to ask Madame Pomfrey for something stronger."

He chuckled lowly, the sound causing his chest to vibrate pleasantly against her back. "I imagine that would be an odd conversation."

Hermione giggled. "Yes, well I couldn't exactly go to Professors Slughorn or Snape. Slughorn only _teaches_ potions and Professor Snape would want to know exactly how I came to need the paste – along with every last detail."

He dropped another kiss on her neck and gently turned her onto her back, taking care to cushion her tender spots. "I could always request it on your behalf?"

"What makes you so sure he would give it to you?" she asked.

Master Abraxas smirked. "I've known him since he was just a terrified little firstie."

"You went to school together?"

Abraxas nodded and replied, "Only for one year, but we have since become quite close."

Hermione looked up into his eyes, but didn't attempt to enter his mind. "Is Professor Snape Master Tobias?"

“No,” he answered, perhaps just a tad too abruptly – if she noticed, though, she didn’t show it.  "Enough talk, Sweet. We have a few minutes before I have to meet Severus in his office and talking is not how I want to spend that time."

"No?" she asked, tilting her head slightly to the side. "What  _would_  you like to do?"

"This." He leaned down and placed a kiss on her neck, watching while the other man climbed out of the lake and silently padded over to collect his clothes, unbeknownst to Hermione.

She moaned softly as he kissed and sucked up and down her neck, before making his way along her jaw with light butterfly kisses. He kissed the corner of her mouth and nipped at her lower lip, before claiming her mouth in a hot, searing kiss. He nipped her lower lip a few more times until she relented and opened to him, allowing him free access to her mouth, which he quickly took advantage of, using his talented tongue to flick, tease and coax her into engaging with him fully.

Slowly, Hermione wrapped her arms around his neck, slender fingers tangling in his long, raven tresses, pulling lightly on the silky strands. He groaned and deepened the kiss even further, breaking away just long enough to growl, "Vixen." Hermione moaned in return and wrapped a leg around his thigh, pulling him fully on top of her.

When the pair finally parted, both were panting hard, with fogged minds and heaving chests. Master Abraxas had distracted her long enough for the man in the lake to get out and slip away with his clothes. Hermione soon discovered this when she turned to check his progress and found him gone, along with his clothes.

She glared half-heartedly at the man whose lean yet muscular body was pinning her to the boulder. "You did that on purpose."

He only grinned back at her glare, which, he would admit, he found rather cute. "What if I did?"

"Spoil-sport." She pouted up at him

"Watch your mouth – unless you  _want_  to be taken in hand?" His voice held a playful quality as he asked the question, but his eyes promised he’d follow through without hesitation.

She immediately lowered her eyes, looking at his silver buttons. "No, Sir," she muttered.

"Good," he replied, "Now I'd best be off. I'll ask after that bruise paste for you."

"Thank you, Sir,” she replied, not daring to look up at him.

He made to move off her, then, with a sigh, stopped and lifted her chin. "Don't be afraid Little Lioness. I would never hurt you."

"Yes Sir," she said, looking up at him with a tiny smile. "Thank you."

"Good girl." He smiled back. "Now get on with that run of yours."

She giggled and slid down the boulder to land beside him. She summoned her shoes and socks, put them on and gave him one last kiss, before turning to continue her run. She squeaked and mock-glared over her shoulder when Master Abraxas lightly tapped her bottom. He simply grinned mischievously at her and waved goodbye. Smiling, she left him by the boulder and continued her run.

Master Abraxas waited until she had disappeared, then made his way to the gates of Hogwarts. He removed his glamours and proceeded up to the castle, where he found Severus waiting just outside the doors.

"Enjoy your swim did you, Severus?" he asked when he was close enough to speak without being overheard.

"Enjoy distracting her?" he retorted, raising a single raven eyebrow.

He chuckled. "Indeed, I did. She tastes wonderful, by the way – lips like heaven."

Severus scoffed, "Typical. You get to have fun while I do all the hard work."

"I do hard work too," the other man stated stubbornly.

"Signing contracts and counting galleons does not count as 'hard work,' Lucius."

"I work hard when I bind lovely little witches," Lucius replied.

Severus huffed. "Whatever you think. Come down to my office, before she returns."

"Of course. We wouldn't want her to catch us undisguised," he answered, "Have you made the bruise paste?"

"Yes. I finished it this morning before I came out – extra strength to heal the deep bruising he caused and a little bit of numbing so she can sit comfortably. We wouldn't want Minerva investigating the matter." Severus replied.

“At least you know what she was hiding,” Lucius shrugged as they two of them strode through the dungeons.

"I do."

"What are you going to do with that plan of yours?" Lucius looked at his long-time friend. "Will you reveal yourself?"

“No. You gave her clues enough this morning. She’ll figure it out herself soon enough.”

Lucius nodded. "You felt the bond ignite?"

"Yes. That I felt it spark when you kissed her means it is definitely triadic-romantic."

"We may be able to use that to reveal ourselves,” Lucius suggested, raising a single white-blond eyebrow.

"Perhaps. Marian's Christmas ball will have enchanted mistletoe – we simply have her stand under it and she'll be stuck there until one of us kisses her, then we do the same thing at Slughorn's Christmas party – you're invited, by the way."

Lucius scowled. "I don't like the idea of every male in attendance kissing her."

"A necessary evil. Schoolboys won't do much and Slughorn will be reluctant to engage with a student," Severus replied.

"Lupin? I hear he's been invited," Lucius enquired.

Severus shook his head. "He now has a bond with Tonks. He will know better than to bother. Perhaps you should be more concerned about how your son will react."

"Draco knows I care nothing for his mother, nor she for me. He was the only good thing that ever came of our marriage and he is well aware of my true feelings on the Muggleborn situation.”

"Good. Shall I take care of Skeeter?" The way he spat the words made his feelings towards the woman clear; as if he had eaten something foul. His sneer only served to cement the fact.

"Perhaps you should follow Miss Granger's example and put her in a jar," Lucius proposed, earning a chuckle from the dark man at his side.

Severus stopped outside his office and opened the door, gesturing Lucius in. "Perhaps." Once Lucius was inside, Severus followed, closing and locking the door.

While the two men discussed their plans for Hermione and updated each other on the Dark Lord situation, Hermione had returned from her run, beaten the stuffing out of a boxing dummy – a well-needed stress relief after the previous night – and showered. By six-thirty, she was in the library, looking through the student records from Professor Snape's first year and the six years prior. She could find no Abraxas or Tobias in any of the years there and decided to look in the student index for an Abraxas or Tobias. While no Tobias seemed to exist, she did find an Abraxas Malfoy, father of Lucius  _Abraxas_  Malfoy. The same Lucius Malfoy who was a seventh-year whilst Professor Snape was a first-year.  _One point to Hermione!_  She congratulated herself with a grin.  _Now, I think Professor Snape's father warrants investigation, given the alias used by Master Abraxas._  She spent a further half-hour in the library before heading to breakfast. She had been unsuccessful in finding any information on Professor Snape's parents, let alone his father, coming to the conclusion that he was a half-blood at most, as the Snape name had dropped out of the wizarding world some centuries ago.

So early on a Sunday morning, the boys and Ginny were still asleep, so Hermione ate alone. Back up in her room, she recorded her meal in her journal and changed into something more suitable for potion brewing. She opted for old, stained jeans and a similarly ruined t-shirt so large that the sleeves came down to her elbows. The only disadvantage to wearing that particular t-shirt was that the neck was quite wide and, no matter what she did, it would always eventually slip off one shoulder, showing a bra strap and part of her upper chest. For this reason, she made certain to glamour any and all marks that could be construed as love bites, most of which were real love bites from Master Abraxas.

When she was certain every mark was covered, Hermione made her way down to Professor Snape's office. She reached his door five minutes early and waited until exactly eight o'clock to knock.

She heard shuffling and a soft, "Fuck," from inside his office, then the door was opened, revealing a glaring Professor Snape with a smirking Master Abraxas standing behind him.

She smiled up at her professor and skirted past him, into his office. "Good morning, Professor. Hello again, Mister Malfoy." She waved at Abraxas from across the room, her smile becoming a coy smirk.

Master Abraxas scowled and removed his glamours, revealing white-blond hair and grey eyes. "She really is the brightest witch of her age," he said, "A bit of a spoilsport, though. How was your run, Little Lioness?"

She blushed crimson, right down to her chest. "It was good, thank you," she replied.

"I'm glad." He grinned down at her, his eyes darting to her reddened chest.

Severus rolled his eyes. "Leave her, Lucius. She is a student and very much underage."

"Actually, I'm 18," she corrected, turning her attention to Professor Snape.

"You are still a student," he snapped, "Therefore, any liaisons with Lucius Malfoy, a member of the school board and a  _married_  man," here, he glared at Lucius, "would be inappropriate."

"Actually," Hermione began, "according to a rule made by Godric Gryffindor when he –" but Lucius cut her off with a shake of his head.

"It is irrelevant. Severus, you should know better. Now drop it, the pair of you," Lucius commanded sternly.

Hermione immediately lowered her eyes and barely stopped herself from kneeling at his feet, while Severus just glared at his long-time friend.

Lucius chuckled. "Goodbye Severus. Miss Granger." She squeaked when he took her hand, bowing to kiss her knuckles. "Until next time," he purred, a mischievous glint in his eyes. Then he was gone.

Severus glared after his friend and a touch on his outer thoughts revealed that he was hatching a revenge plan.

Hermione shook her head. _Men_.

When Professor Snape was still mulling over his plot several minutes later, Hermione decided to interrupt. Her soft, "Sir?" stirred him from his thoughts and he shook his head before turning fathomless, raven eyes to the girl standing demurely in his office. For a moment, he took in what she was wearing; the loosely fitting jeans, stained with potion residue, old paint and grass stains on the knees, and the t-shirt, once pastel pink and far too big for her. Slipping off one shoulder, it was equally as stained and revealed a fair expanse of tender, creamy flesh. It didn’t take him long to deduce it was worn for the sole purpose of hiding the silver chains snaking around her upper arms.

With a huff, he stalked past her and across the room to the back corner. Hermione's knees wobbled when he muttered, "Come," in that sinfully deep voice that sounded impossibly like Master Tobias'. Still, she followed as he led her through a hidden door at the back of his office and down a corridor to his private lab. It was far more spacious than one might expect, with room enough for two – or even three – people to work quite comfortably in the same space.

He handed her a list of potions to be made, along with a hand-written journal, several pages of which were marked for her reference.

"The textbooks are wrong. Use these recipes and learn them. You may make a list of any questions you might have on a spare piece of parchment and I will answer them next time. I am expecting a visit from a friend later this morning. If I happen to be occupied when he arrives, he may come looking for me in here. Ignore him and if he comes near you, tell him to keep his hands to himself," he instructed.

Hermione nodded, gathered the necessary equipment and ingredients and set to work.

 


	9. ~ Boomerang Visitor

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Boomerangs always come back (if you know what you're doing)

Hermione had just started brewing the second batch of pepper-up potion when the door to the lab flew open and in marched the unmistakeable Master Tobias, with his shock of white-blond hair and sparkling silver eyes.

As instructed, Hermione ignored him, continuing her work on the four potions. She had timed her work so that the first three batches would all finish at exactly the same time. The pepper-up could be bottled immediately after completion, while the other two required time to cool – one, a cauldron of pain reliever, would sit for ten minutes, while she bottled the pepper-up and the burn paste would sit for a total of twenty minutes, allowing her to bottle the first two while it cooled. The second batch of pepper-up would finish three quarters of an hour after the first, which would give her time to bottle and store everything else beforehand.

Master Tobias picked up a jar from a nearby counter and inspected it. "Bruise paste. Yours?"

Hermione glanced up at him. "No, Sir."

"I see," he responded, "How is your backside after last night?"

She paused to look up at him. "Still sore, Sir." Her cheeks turned a bright crimson, just as they had earlier that morning and she lowered her eyes back to her work.

"May I?" he enquired, gesturing to her lower half.

She kept her eyes resolutely on her work. "Professor Snape said to tell you to 'keep your hands to yourself',” she muttered softly.

He raised a sardonic brow. "But that is not what you would like." When she didn't answer, he slipped around behind her and lifted her shirt, revealing the dark, swollen line from the first blow. "Surely you are in pain?"

Hermione winced when his fingers brushed lightly against the bruising and, not long after, she heard the click of the lid being removed from the jar. Her eyes watered as the cool paste was gently spread across the bruise and, try as she might, she couldn't prevent the escape of a soft whimper at the pain. When the numbing attribute of the paste began to take effect, Master Tobias applied a little more pressure, ensuring the paste was being absorbed properly into her body.

All the while, Hermione tried frantically to keep track of her potions – with more success than most would have achieved. She came very close to giving the burn paste an extra turn clockwise, but thanks to the watchful eyes of Master Tobias she made it through without error. More than once, his fingers stilled her wrist as she went to add another stir to one thing or another, or encouraged her to add another where she had lost count and missed one.

The worst of the bruises, across her lower back, slowly faded from a dark mixture of black and purple to a much healthier red-brown, although it still smarted to the touch. Tobias’ hand crept around to her front, slipped the button of her jeans from its hole and slid the zip down, leaving them loose around her hips. He gently pushed them down, moving slowly and carefully, just far enough to reveal the line of bruising across the tops of her thighs. He dropped down into a crouching position, bringing her simple blue knickers down with him, and ran his large, callused hand over her backside, inspecting the mottled purple and red bruising there. He stood and his wand flicked out of its hiding place in his sleeve for just a split second, leaving the four potions frozen in time under a complex stasis charm.

"Come here, witch," he rumbled, his voice soft and deep.

Hermione obeyed, turning to face him with wide brown eyes. With a hand placed gently on her lower back, just above the now faded line of bruising, Master Tobias guided her across the room to one of the clear benches.

A gentle nudge and a soft, "Bend over. That's a good girl," had her bent forward, leaning on the smooth, cold stone benchtop, giving him better access to her rear.

"What if Professor Snape comes in?" Hermione asked quietly, looking in the direction of the open door.

Master Tobias smirked and flicked a glance in the direction of the door. "He won't."

Hermione hissed, effectively distracted by the combination of pain and soothing cold as he began rubbing the bruise paste onto her tender bottom and thighs. When he was done, he cleaned his hand with his wand and screwed the lid back on the jar.

With a gentleness she barely believed, he repositioned her clothes and helped her back into a standing position. Turning her to face him and pulling her body flush against his, he lightly kissed the corner of her mouth, causing her to part her lips, a picture of wanton beauty. His wicked smirk returned as his tongue flicked out to tease first her upper lip, then her lower lip. His teeth lightly grazed her bottom lip, before catching it in their grip and tugging softly. He released her lip and her mouth immediately closed, tongue flickering out to wet her dry lips. Her mouth dropped open again – ever so slightly – and her eyes closed as she leaned into him; a feeble attempt to have him kiss her. He didn’t. Instead, he hissed, grunted, released her, disappeared – out the door and away.

Hermione's eyes popped open. Her breathing was laboured, chest heaving, eyes hooded. Her core throbbed. So close... why had he left?

Shaking off the strange feeling of apprehension, she removed his charm from the four potions and tried to forget about her fleeting visitor. She finished and bottled the first four potions into dose-sized phials, then brewed a further twelve of seven different varieties, transferred them to more phials and sealed them into crates. By the time she delivered them to Madam Pomfrey in the hospital wing, she had a half-dozen crates, each filled with twenty phials, all neatly labelled with the kind of potion and the date it was brewed. Once the matron had checked off her list, she gave Hermione a note for Professor Snape and sent her on her way. Hermione returned to the dungeons, note in hand, and checked for any sign of the Professor’s return. Still, there was no trace of his presence, and she decided it would be best to thoroughly clean and tidy both the lab and storage room whilst she waited. At least he wouldn’t be able to criticise her for that.

He hadn’t returned by four o’clock, so Hermione chanced a knock on the door to his private chambers. When she got no response, she placed the note on his desk and left. On the way up, she went to the kitchens for a snack, then took her textbooks and headed outside to study, finding herself surprisingly alone.

She was nearing the gates on her way to the lake when she heard the loud crack of apparition from outside the gates. Two tall figures appeared at the gate, one sporting the distinctive long, blond hair of Lucius Malfoy, the other shrouded in black from head to toe and slumped against his companion. Hermione immediately dropped her bag, knowing that the books inside would be perfectly safe, and sprinted to the gates.

Lucius frantically waved his wand above the man shrouded in black, lowered him to the ground and propped him against the gates. When Hermione reached him, he gently stroked her cheek through the bars and gave her a command – “Take the man to Professor Snape’s chambers, heal him and leave him there; do not remove his glamours and tell no-one of my presence here” – before leaving with a soft, “Good luck.”

Hermione nodded and levitated the unconscious man over the gates and up to the castle, retrieving her book bag along the way. When they neared the castle, she disillusioned her battered charge and hurried inside, heading directly to the dungeons. Once there, she went directly to Professor Snape's office and closed the door firmly, before removing the charm.

Checking the door that lead to Professor Snape’s private chambers, she found it locked just as tightly as she had expected. Even she didn’t know an unlocking spell powerful enough to counter his charms. Checking the other doors, she found the one opposite his lab unlocked, leading to a small room that contained only a bed like those in the hospital wing, a bench with a basin in it and several shelves. Levitating him so that he floated a foot above the brilliant white sheets of the bed, she carefully removed his hooded cloak - a choked gasp escaped her lips when it revealed the lank, blond hair of Master Tobias. With a flick of her wand, the cloak folded itself neatly in the corner of the room, and she turned her attention to his face. He wore a heavy, metal mask, engraved with elaborate, snake-like designs and slits for eyes. Prying it away – though it was surprisingly heavy – exposed bloody features that looked strangely familiar; like someone she had met and not seen again for years. After a few minutes, she saw hints of pallid skin through the blood, along with a slightly hooked nose. A ragged breath escaped his lips and she shook off the sensation of familiarity. The mask was sent to join the cloak. She removed the stained cravat and set to work fumbling with his many, many buttons - how many buttons could one piece of clothing need?

Finally giving up on doing it with her fingers, she flicked her wand. The buttons of his frock coat and the dress shirt beneath it, once white and now carmine with dried blood, sprung open instantly. Removing his clothes, leaving him in just his boxers, revealed pallid flesh as pale as fresh snow. There was a tinge of blue slowly spreading upward from his extremities as his body struggled to overcome the effects of such great blood loss.

Hermione sighed. The black cotton was soaked through with blood from the deep gashes on his torso and thighs.

She picked up her bag and dug through it for the tiny, beaded clutch that she always kept nearby – fully stocked, just in case. Inside was anything and everything they could possibly need should they have to leave in a hurry; clothes, books, potions, food, water – she even had spare wands.

Not wasting a moment, Hermione summoned essence of dittany, blood replenisher and a small bezoar for good measure. Rather than using a dropper to administer the dittany into the cuts, she used a trick she had read in  _Magical Healing: Time Saving Shortcuts For Unpredictable Cases_ ; she used her wand to siphon the dittany out of the phial and into the wounds, filling each gash with a little pool of the healing liquid. Once the wounds on his front and sides had healed over, she used her wand to turn him over, still hovering above the bed, and repeated the process on the litany of cuts littering his back. She quickly turned him back over and administered the blood replenisher. Once some colour had returned to his sallow cheeks, she placed the bezoar in his mouth. She was uncertain as to whether he had been poisoned, and so opted to use the bezoar anyway – better safe than sorry.

Once the multitude of cuts and gashes littering his skin had healed over and his cheeks turned a healthy shade of pink, Hermione proceeded to remove his shorts, avoiding looking at his... _that_. Averting her eyes, she turned her attention to cleaning the wizard. She started with a general cleansing charm, which removed the dirt, blood and various other substances from his skin. She then lowered him back onto the bed and conjured a tub of warm water and a cloth; the cleansing charm had done the job, but would leave his body feeling rough and his skin raw.

With a gentleness not often associated with Gryffindor house, she washed his pale body, including his face, which sported a nasty black eye and a broken nose. These had only been revealed when the blood had been scoured from his skin.

Hermione cast a quick  _episkey_  to heal his broken nose and summoned the jar of bruise paste that had been used on her bruises that morning. She conjured a rubber glove so that her hand wouldn't go numb from touching the thick paste, then scooped up a glob of the bluey-green substance and applied it to his eye. Almost immediately, the bruising diminished and the swelling went down completely.

She continued to clean his face with the warm cloth, then washed his lank hair with the water in the tub and her own hair products, which she had been making since the year before when her hair began to truly succumb to the effects of potion brewing and its own wildness.

When he was clean, Hermione conjured a fresh, black towel, patted his body dry and then towelled his hair until it no longer dripped, though it was still a bit damp. She had just dried and transfigured the cloth into a pair of black boxer shorts when he groaned softly. With a squeak, she jumped back, waving her wand to put the boxer shorts on his bare body. They fitted loosely around his slim hips and she flicked her wand to adjust them until the fit was snug.

He groaned again. The muscles of his lean torso twitched. Hermione watched.

Another groan. More twitching.

A loud moan.

His body writhed dangerously on the bed.

A scream tore from him; something loud, desperate... Eerie.

Hermione jumped.

His back arched, muscles pulled taut.

She could hear his breath coming in pants. She opened the bag and removed a phial of Dreamless Sleep potion. Grasping him by the jaw to prevent him tossing his head about, Hermione uncorked the bottle and tipped it into his mouth, massaging his throat to help him swallow.

The seconds ticked by and he eventually calmed, falling into a shallow, restless sleep.  _He must be developing an immunity to it,_  she surmised, turning away to clean his clothes, before dressing him in his black trousers and stark white dress shirt. She folded his remaining clothing and placed the pile on the shelf by the door, then made to leave. She only stopped when his socks caught her eye and she picked them up and slipped them on his feet – the dungeons could get pretty cold, after all.

Hermione stared at him, sleeping relatively peacefully, and decided that the tiny hospital cot wouldn't do. He might throw himself off it if the Dreamless Sleep were to wear off. Her solution was to transfigure the little cot into a large four-poster with black sheets and a deep green duvet. The sheets were tucked in securely at the sides so that he couldn't possibly throw himself out of the bed, yet they were loose enough that he would still be able to move relatively freely under them. The duvet was draped over the top, stopping just below his shoulders, while matching pillows cradled his head.

A heating charm was cast on the room, seeing as it lacked a fireplace, and Hermione left a headache potion, a pain reliever, the bruise paste and another phial of Dreamless Sleep potion on a night stand transfigured from one of the discarded corks.

He was stable, comfortable and moderately peaceful. All he needed was rest.

As she left, Hermione checked once again for Professor Snape. Finding no evidence of his presence, she wrote another note explaining that Mister Tobias had been patched up and was safely ensconced in the room opposite the lab. The note was left on his desk, pinned under an ink pot and, checking the time – six thirty – she hurried off to meet her friends in the Great Hall for dinner.

Ron was oddly quiet. Apparently, Lavender was angry at him for talking to some Hufflepuff girl – though he insisted she was only asking for Harry's autograph – and wouldn't talk to him.

Hermione had to hold back her laughter at that. Some girls were just so paranoid. Ginny agreed.

Of course, Ginny and Harry wanted to know where she'd been all day and the night before. Hermione, thinking on her feet, told them she had spent the night studying in the Room of Requirement and had fallen asleep there, waking up early in the morning, at which point she snuck back to her dorm. As for her absence through the day, she said she had been given an extra credit project that would help prepare her for their exams, as well as contributing towards her marks for a few of her classes. The pair seemed to buy her excuses and they continued their dinner, chatting amiably.

Hermione glanced at the teachers’ table several times throughout her meal. Not once did she see Professor Snape. Shrugging off his strange absence, she finished her dinner and headed up to Gryffindor tower with her friends, slipping off to write in her journal, before returning to the common room to relax by the fire.

 


	10. ~ Duty Calls

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello! I don’t know how recently I’ve put a note on a chapter, but here’s one! I’m down with the flu, yet I’m headed to the city to have some kinky fun times because I’m mostly over it and I want bruises! As always, thanks to my editor, who knows who he is (I would hope) and enjoy!

Hermione woke later than she would have liked and went for a short run, before washing and heading to breakfast. When she entered the Great Hall, Dumbledore approached her, a soft smile on his lips and a twinkle in his blue eyes. Hermione was immediately on edge.

"Miss Granger, would you come and see me in my office?" The request in itself was rather benign, but that didn’t help to loosen the knot in her stomach. Dumbledore never approached her, unless it was to do with Harry.

"Yes Sir. When would you like to see me?"

Professor Dumbledore paused for a moment, a pensive look flitting across his features, before answering. “Would forty-five minutes be adequate time to eat your breakfast?"

"Certainly Sir," she agreed, "Shall I come when I've finished?"

"Yes," He smiled, adjusted his half-moon spectacles and strode away.

Hermione watched him go, then joined her friends at the table.

"Wha' wazzat aww abou'?" Ron mumbled around a mouthful of sausage and eggs.

"Don't speak with your mouth full,” Ginny admonished, sounding very much like her mother, "Now finish chewing and try again."

Ron chewed, swallowed and started again. "What was that all about?" he asked, his eyes darting towards the place where Dumbledore had stood.

Hermione turned to see where he had looked, then sighed. "Professor Dumbledore would like to see me after breakfast."

"What for?" Harry butted in, nearly making her frown. Merlin forbid any other student get some of the Headmaster’s time, she thought sourly, and then shrugged.

"He didn't say, but I only have forty-five minutes to eat and get to his office."

"D'you want someone to come with you?" Ginny asked, "Even if we just wait outside."

"I'll be fine," Hermione answered, scooping some scrambled eggs onto her plate. "Thanks anyway."

Ginny gave her a sympathetic pat on the shoulder and turned to join the boys in an argument over a  _Daily Prophet_ article about the next Quidditch World Cup.

Hermione quickly finished her breakfast, and then made her way up to the Headmaster's office.

Standing before the gargoyle, she gave the password, "Lemon Drops," and waited for the staircase to be revealed. When she reached the door, she raised her hand to knock. The door swung open before she could touch it, revealing Professor Dumbledore and Master Tobias.

Upon seeing him, Hermione tried hard not to think about their previous encounters, and did her best to stop the blush rising on her cheeks. Master Tobias smirked knowingly.

"Ah, Miss Granger. Kind of you to join us," Dumbledore greeted, opening his arms in a welcoming gesture. "This is Mister Tobias Prince. I believe you met yesterday afternoon."

Hermione nodded and shook Master Tobias' outstretched hand. "Yes Sir. He came to visit Professor Snape while I was brewing, then I found him at the gates and healed him."

"I thank you for your assistance, Miss Granger. Without your care I may well have died," Master Tobias intoned, lowering himself into a sweeping bow.

"Indeed," Dumbledore added solemnly. He gestured each to sit and waited until they had both settled in, before lowering himself into his own chair.

Hermione looked at Master Tobias, then back to Dumbledore. "If I may, Sir, what exactly have I been called here to discuss?"

Dumbledore grinned, his eyes twinkling something fierce. "That, my dear, shall be revealed momentarily. Lemon drop?"

Knowing they might be laced with veritaserum, Hermione politely declined and gave the Headmaster an expectant look.

The Headmaster sighed. "Tobias, if you will."

Master Tobias nodded and drew a deep breath. "Severus Snape has been tasked with a mission which he can neither refuse, nor delay. I will be joining him shortly. In his absence, he has requested you continue to brew the potions required for the infirmary – and also for Mister Lupin, if needs be.  
"This task may take days, weeks, possibly months. With any luck, it will be the former and you will not be required to brew the Wolfsbane for Mister Lupin, however in the event that you are required to do so, there is a secret compartment in the back of Severus' private store-room. He has already set the wards so that they will allow you access, you need only provide a small sample of blood, deposited onto the rune at the tip of the ornamental sword. A prick to the tip of your thumb will suffice. You will then give the password, 'Leda'," A smirk crossed his face as he said this, unashamedly smug, "and the cupboard will open. There is stock enough for six months' worth of the potion. If we have not returned before you run out of supplies, Abraxas, will escort you to the apothecary to retrieve the necessary ingredients."

Hermione, nodded, eyes wide. "Who will be teaching Professor Snape's classes?"

"That would be me," Dumbledore interjected. "I will be taking over Professor Snape's classes in his absence, just as you will be brewing in his place – provided you agree to do so, of course."

"Yes Sir." Hermione confirmed with a nod of her bushy head.

"Lovely!" Dumbledore grinned, his eyes twinkling. "Thank you for your time, Miss Granger, Tobias. Miss Granger, if you would be so kind as to escort Mister Prince off the grounds?"

Hermione nodded and all three stood at the same time. Master Tobias nodded his acknowledgment to Dumbledore and turned away from the old Headmaster to offer Hermione his arm, a wicked smirk plastered on his pale face. Hermione once again found herself trying not to blush, but took his arm nonetheless and was lead from the office.

The pair walked in silence until they reached the gates, at which point Master Tobias turned to her and said, "Might I assume that you have a free period?"

"Yes Sir," Hermione answered, nodding.

"Would it trouble you terribly to meet me by the lake in ten minutes?" He looked pointedly over her shoulder, she assumed he was looking at the headmaster's office window, where the old man would no doubt be watching them.

"Behind the large boulder, Sir?" she asked, a giddy smile on her face.

Master Tobias nodded. "That would be perfect," he affirmed, then, bowing low, kissed her hand – making certain to hide the gesture behind her body so that the headmaster wouldn't see – and said, "I thank you for your company, but now I must bid you goodbye." He smirked. "Until next time,  _Leda_ ," his tone was teasing and his grey eyes flashed with mischief.

Hermione fought to control her breathing and returned his “Farewell” with one of her own, watching him apparate away, before turning and making her way up the path. She fetched her book bag and made her way down to the lake, giving the appearance that she would be studying.

By the time she reached the boulder, not only had the Headmaster lost interest in watching her movements, but she was also well and truly hidden by the thick coverage of trees. To further ensure their invisibility, she moved behind the boulder upon which Lucius had found her just the day before. She placed her bag at the base of the tree that grew against the boulder – or perhaps the boulder had fallen against the tree – and climbed to sit atop it, facing away from the lake in favour of staring into the forest.

So focussed was she on looking into the forest that she didn't see, nor hear, the man sneaking up behind her. She even failed to notice when he quietly scaled the near-vertical side of the rock and crouched behind her.

"Aren't you lucky I'm not really a Death-Eater," rumbled a deep voice very close to her ear.

Hermione jumped, drawing in a soft gasp. She turned bright red and stammered, "Y-yes sir. I-I am."

He chuckled. "Nervous?"

Hermione nodded, opting to keep her mouth shut for fear of embarrassing herself.

"I won't hurt you, Her-mi-o-ne," he purred, drawing out her name deliciously with his deep, rumbling voice. "Do you trust me?"

"Yes S-Sir," Hermione answered, her voice wavering just the tiniest bit.

Her hair was swept aside to rest over her right shoulder and soft lips placed a wet kiss on her exposed neck.

"Good girl." Another kiss, this time higher. "I should hope so."

He nuzzled her neck, inhaling her scent of honey and vanilla, mixed with the smell of parchment, ink and something entirely her own. Another kiss was placed just below and behind her ear, then sharp teeth grasped her earlobe and tugged gently, sending a delicious shiver racing up her spine.

"You taste divine," he practically growled into her ear, flicking his tongue against the sensitive shell.

Hermione moaned, her eyes fluttering closed.

A large hand on her lower back gently nudged her forward and guided her to the ground, followed by its owner.

Master Tobias moved across in front of her and pressed his palms against the rock, barricading her in with his lean arms. He stood close – enough so that she could feel the heat rolling off him in waves and smell the aroma of parchment and herbs, mingling with his own masculine musk that was uniquely his – but not close enough to make contact.

He lowered his head, coming almost eye level with her, cool, minty breath ghosting across her parted lips. Long, slender fingers tipped her chin up, allowing him to stare into her eyes, her pretty, little upturned face open and honest.

"Delectable," he muttered, placing a feather-light kiss on her nose, then another on the corner of her mouth, his fingers on her chin preventing any movement of her head.

He dropped more soft butterfly kisses across her cheek and down her neck, pausing occasionally to suck or bite a sensitive area, leaving tiny patches of pink across creamy skin, some of which looked like they might bloom into deep red bruises. He nipped lightly on her collar bone and continued down her chest until he reached the edge of her blouse.

"I believe Marian would castrate me if I were to travel any further, but you are oh-so lovely, and – almost – irresistible…”

Hermione whimpered, leaning heavily against the boulder to prevent herself from tumbling to the ground, her knees too weak to support her. Her whimpered, “please,” sounded whiny and pathetic, even to her own ears.

"Hmmm. 'Please,' what?" he purred.

A soft little groan escaped through her parted lips. "Please, don't stop."

He chuckled. "I'm afraid I must. I can, however, do this-" he answered, working his way back up her other side, where he eventually reached her lips. Instead of kissing her, however, he peppered tiny little pecks all over her face, taking his sweet time, drawing out the anticipation. When at last he was done, he once again placed a kiss on the corner of her mouth, then flicked her upper lip with the very tip of his tongue and gently took her bottom lip between his teeth. He tugged gently on her lip, before releasing it to spring back into its natural position.

He continued to taunt her, leaning in teasingly and then drifting away when she began to gravitate into him. Several times he brushed her lips with his own, before swaying back, wearing a teasing smirk.

Finally, when Hermione's knees were on the verge of giving out, he seemed to tire of his little game and slowly, ever-so-slowly, leaned towards her, soft lips just brushing against her own.

A loud crunch in the distance caused the pair to spring apart guiltily.

Master Tobias cursed under his breath when he heard the all too familiar voice of Hagrid shouting, "Buckbeak!"

He sighed and stroked Hermione's flushed cheek. "I apologise, Sweet One, but I must leave now."

"Please – don't."

"I _must_ ," he replied, "If Hagrid were to find us together, well… I would never be allowed to return."

Hermione's mind was racing. He could hear the thoughts turning over in her head. "This task for the Dark Lord," she said, " It’s bound to be dangerous; what if you never return?"

"I will," he assured her, bringing both hands up to cup her cheeks.

"What if you don't?" she flicked her wand and her glamours dropped into place like a mask. "Don't risk it. Please?" she pleaded, staring up into his pale, silver eyes, her own brimming with tears.

Master Tobias sighed. "Not like this." He pushed a wayward curl behind her ear. "I will return if it is the last thing I ever do. I swear it."

"I believe you," she whispered. Tears began to topple down her cheeks unbidden and she closed her eyes to staunch the flow. Master Tobias swiped at them with his thumbs and placed a comforting kiss on her forehead.

"Be a good girl while I'm gone – be my good girl. Promise me."

"I promise," Hermione muttered, her voice cracking.

"Who's there?!" Hagrid boomed nearby – too close for comfort.

Tobias whirled in the direction of the half-giant's call. "I must leave," he muttered urgently, silver eyes boring into Hermione's honey brown. "Remove your glamours; cover the marks. Say you were reading. I _will_ return. Fare thee well, my sweet Gryffindor."

Hermione smiled sadly and nodded, wiping at the tears cascading down her cheeks.

"Make haste, kind sir," she responded, mimicking his use of old, Shakespearean English.

He smirked, placed one last kiss on her forehead and by the time her eyes had opened again, he was gone.

A branch – or maybe a log – broke not far from where she was standing and she jumped into action. Her glamours dissolved, and she used a conjured hand mirror to help her cover the trail of red marks on her neck and chest. She summoned bag, dropped onto her bum and pulled out one of the romance novels her mother had given her. Opening it to the middle, she made out that she had been reading when Hagrid approached.

The half-giant started violently when he stumbled into the tiny clearing, emitting a loud, “Oh!” He squinted and leaned down, hoping to identify the student he had stumbled upon – almost trod on. "'Ermione?" he asked, shock evident in his voice.

Hermione closed the book in her lap and looked up at his bushy face. "Oh, hello Hagrid!" she beamed, ignoring the tears on her cheeks. "How are you?"

"I'm good," he replied, "Bit surprised t' see yeh out 'ere at this hour. Don' you usually 'ave class by now?"

Hermione nodded, "Oh, yes, usually. I've got a free period at the moment, so I thought I might come out here and read one of the books my mum sent me – so I don’t forget everything Muggle."

Hagrid beamed, "I see." He paused to think for a moment, then, with a look of puzzlement twisting his heavy features, said, "‘Ere, 'ave you seen Professor Snape today? I've been wantin' ter tell 'im I've got them bezoars 'e was lookin' fer."

"I'm afraid not." She shook her head, giving the half-giant an apologetic look, "Professor Dumbledore said he'd gone away on an urgent trip and that I was to take over brewing the school's potions. Perhaps I could take them to his office? There might be a note there saying what he wants done with them."

"Brewin' fer th' school? Blimey 'Ermione – How d'yeh handle it?" he exclaimed, gobsmacked.

Hermione shrugged nonchalantly. "I like to be busy," she answered, a blush rising to her cheeks. "Shall we see about those bezoars, then?"

Hagrid nodded, "Migh' as well – not 'avin' any luck out here. Come on, then. They're back at mine."

Hermione stood, stuffed the book into her bag, which she slung over her shoulder, and followed the half-giant in the direction of his hut, trotting to keep up with his massive strides.

 


	11. ~ Hair Ball

“ _Finite Incantatem_.”

Without the assistance of a charm to lighten the massive sack of bezoars that Hagrid had given her, Hermione was forced to drop her heavy, though fortunately not delicate, load on the hard dungeon floor. With a final heave, she dragged the over-sized hessian sack the remaining few feet towards Professor Snape’s desk, leaning it against the dark timber frame. She had to stifle a giggle as it occurred to her that, as first-years, both Harry and Ron probably could have hidden comfortably inside the half-giant-sized potato sack.

With an amused shake of her bushy head, Hermione began her search for a note or instructions as to what should be done with the bezoars. As she searched, she noted that Professor Snape’s desk was unusually chaotic; papers, both marked and unmarked, were strewn carelessly across its surface, quills were knocked out of the inkpots in which they had been left standing – several of which were now completely dried out and ruined – and all manner of books and periodicals were stacked haphazardly in one corner.

Hermione decided that a spot of tidying was in order if she ever wanted even the slightest chance of finding the note, which she unwaveringly believed her studious professor would have left – by whatever means necessary.

With her hands on her hips and her hair straining dangerously against the little loop of cotton-wrapped elastic that tried desperately to hold it back in a messy bun, Hermione surveyed the anarchy before her, her analytical mind already forming a plan of attack.

Starting with the least delicate part of the task – that is, the part least likely to cause an avalanche of papers – Hermione gathered up the quills of varying age and value and, one-by-one, cleansed them of any residual ink, leaving unclogged, if slightly dull, tips. Without dry, clumpy ink obscuring what should be fine, precise points, it became glaringly obvious that these quills, though not overly ruffled, had been severely abused and never repaired – or at least not recently. It was at that moment that Hermione remembered a passage from her book on quill care – ‘Mrs Merryfeather’s Guide for the Care and Maintenance of Magical Writing Instruments’.

The section on properly cleansing the tip had also noted how to maintain the precision of the writing point, including a charm which could be used to repair and refine bent or dulled quill tips. Brandishing her wand and concentrating specifically on the tip of the first quill, Hermione firmly spoke the incantation, “ _Excolo Cuspis*_.” The writing point of the quill responded immediately, sharpening and refining itself until it appeared almost brand-new. Encouraged, Hermione repeated the charm on the remaining quills and then placed them on a table off to the side for safe-keeping.

Next, she turned her attention to the ink pots, the contents of which had either dried out or otherwise spoiled. These too were placed aside, lined up on a table with the quills; she would give the pots to Lucius and ask him to have them refilled with the correct inks.

With the simplest of the tasks successfully completed, Hermione heaved an exasperated sigh and set to work on the rest of the mess. Fortunately, she was a witch; a relatively skilled one at that. A few practised flicks of her wand saw the dangerously tottering pile of books organising themselves on a nearby shelf in alphabetical order – by topic, then author, of course. That left just the toppled and mixed up piles of student assignments. Hermione huffed; it appeared the final task would have to be done by hand.

As she sorted through the many sheets of parchment, Hermione started to notice a distinct pattern; the pages that had been slashed through unforgivingly with blood-red ink and marked with a score, an alarming number of which were ‘Trolls’, all sported the initials ‘S.S.’ in shimmering green ink. She smiled triumphantly and, touching her wand to a section where the green ink had splattered, cast an analytical spell to identify the components of the ink. The information was stored in her wand and a further incantation saw the sheets separate into two piles; one of the pages marked with the unique green ink and another larger stack of papers lacking it.

With the pages now in neat piles, Hermione flicked through each stack to check that no unmarked assignments had been erroneously mixed in with the marked – and vice-versa. Her diligence was rewarded, finding two that had yet to be scrutinised. Upon closer inspection, it was revealed that they had been splattered with a small amount of green ink, presumably when Professor Snape had left in a hurry. The two assignments were easily relocated to the appropriate pile and another flick of Hermione's wand left the two piles arranged in alphabetical order according to the students’ surnames.

Pulling a ball of string from her bag, Hermione secured each of the stacks separately so that they wouldn’t topple over again and cause another mess. She then levitated the neatly arranged row of books back onto the desk and transfigured some charred sticks from the fireplace into a pair of glossy, wooden bookends, each displaying the same charring marks that the two sticks had featured. She placed them at either end of the row of books, effectively keeping them upright and not on the floor. The restored quills were placed neatly between the two stacks of assignments and Hermione paused to appraise her work.

Turning to survey the state of the rest of the office, she finally noticed the time on the wall clock and dashed off to class – she was two minutes away from being late and slung her bag across her shoulder, holding on tightly so that it wouldn’t jostle about while she ran.

Fortunately for Hermione's already frayed nerves – and those who might have to suffer her wrath should she meet the end of her tether – both classes and mealtimes passed without incident, although it was rather disconcerting to see Dumbledore teaching classes as if he’d never stopped.

She spent part of her evening after dinner putting the finishing touches on a few of her assignments and chatting with the boys, then made her excuses – “I need a book from the library before it closes.” – and headed down to the dungeons, ensuring nobody followed her, to continue her search for the note she was certain would exist.

When she reached the dungeons, Hermione was momentarily shocked by the all-encompassing coldness that seeped through her school robes, as well as her jeans and thick jumper. She had heard how absolutely freezing the dungeon corridors could become, but had not expected the bone-chilling frigidity that she encountered. The temperature was far lower than she was used to and she desperately hoped that the fireplace in Professor Snape’s office would be functional.

It wasn’t.

Disappointed, she began searching for the cause of her dilemma. The kindling was perfectly dry, the fireplace plenty big enough to host a fire and no water had fallen into it, so what could possibly be the cause?

Hermione was much relieved to find that the reason her flames had never survived in the black marble fireplace was because the fireplace was, in fact, made of grey marble. A frankly appalling amount of soot and ash had settled on all sides of the hollow that was meant to host the flame, suffocating it instantly. A simple cleansing charm rectified the issue and Hermione was able to conjure one of her famous bluebell flames, which took to the kindling instantly. The fire crackled and popped, each sound seeming to chase away a bit more of the biting chill in the air. Deciding that her fingers were too frozen to function properly, Hermione took a moment to kneel by the fire, holding her hands out towards the flame until her fingers returned to a soft, healthy pink, rather than the chilly, borderline blue they had been before. Happily, she noticed that the stones under her knees were beginning to warm as well and she had no doubt that the whole room would soon be quite cosy.

Now warm enough to focus on her task, Hermione resumed her search for the elusive note.

After thoroughly searching the shelves and the desktop to no avail, Hermione began systematically checking the drawers, working her way around the room before returning to check those of the desk. Several of them opened easily, while others gave off a warm tingle of magic, warning her to maintain a safe distance. The drawers that put up no resistance to her intrusion held nothing of obvious importance; spare quills, ink pots, sheaves of parchment, sealing wax, spare potion phials and the like.

Puzzled, Hermione tried several unlocking charms and, finding them insufficient, attempted to dismantle the wards. They didn’t budge, but from her low angle, she noticed a seam on the front panel of the desk that looked just the slightest bit out of place. On the opposite side of the gap meant to house the legs of the person sitting at the desk, a matching seam was barely visible. It gave off a tingle, this one cool and not at all threatening. The wards, clearly concealing a secret drawer, felt more like those shrouding the Fiendfyres’ house at Hogsmeade; welcoming.

Dangerous as it probably was, Hermione decided to open the drawer, which gave no resistance, and was pleasantly surprised when the sudden halt in the movement of the drawer caused a thick roll of parchment to slide forwards, stopping only when it bumped against the front panel. It was sealed with black wax bearing the Hogwarts crest and had ‘Miss Granger’ scrawled above the wax in Professor Snape’s familiar, spidery script.

Hermione removed the note from the drawer and absently bumped it shut with her hip. She dropped into Professor Snape’s comfortable, padded leather office chair, broke the wax seal and began to read:

 

_Miss Granger,_

_As you are clearly in the process of snooping about my office unbidden, I find it highly likely that you have accepted some sort of delivery on my behalf. Should this be the case, well done; you have successfully found my hiding place for discrete correspondence. If you are invading my PRIVATE office for some other reason, prepare yourself for a thorough hiding upon my return, as I will undoubtedly discover the truth._

_Given your friendship with the gamekeeper, I expect you will have encountered the bezoars first, in which case, you are to take them to the laboratory. There, you will find a size chart pinned to the cork board in the corner furthest from the door. You are to use the **PALE BLUE** steel callipers, which are stored in the second drawer from the top, immediately on your left as you enter the laboratory. You will then use magical labels to mark each individual bezoar with its exact measurements, as well as its average diameter. Magical labels may be acquired from any member of the Hogwarts staff – your best bet, however, is Madam Pince. I must insist that you use the latex gloves provided for the safety of both yourself and the bezoars. Once they have been measured and labelled, the bezoars are then to be stored in glass jars according to size group and bezoar type; place yellow lids on those jars containing phytobezoars and scarlet lids on those that contain trichobezoars. If you find yourself unable to identify any of the specimens, place them in a separate jar and seal it with a white lid. Jars and lids should both be located in the cupboard directly above the drawer containing the callipers. _

_Should you require a remedy to your… unfortunate miniaturised stature, an extendable ladder may be found in the back corner of the laboratory, directly beneath the cork board._

_Do try to refrain from damaging my equipment._

 

Hermione scowled, muttering indignantly to the empty room, “I am _not_ that short, nor am I careless enough to break your precious ‘ _equipment’_.” She huffed and unrolled the rest of the long parchment, only to find it empty. Her brows scrunched together in confusion; why use such a long sheet of parchment for such a short letter? Deciding that something was definitely amiss, but not wanting to dwell on the issue in that moment, Hermione cut a short length of string from the ball kept in her bag and tied it around the parchment to keep it neatly rolled when she shoved it in her bag.

Shouldering her ever-present school bag, Hermione flicked her wand in the direction of the sack of bezoars, still sitting where she had left them that morning, and watched as they slowly lifted from the ground, coming to rest near her shoulder level. As she moved towards the laboratory, the sack bobbed along behind her, spinning slowly in mid-air.

When she reached the laboratory, Hermione lowered the sack onto the floor, leaning it against one of the benches near the bezoar chart. She quickly returned to the doorway, locating the appropriate drawer to retrieve the ‘ ** _PALE BLUE_** _steel callipers_.’ She sat them on the bench that the sack was leaning against and went to inspect the poster, which displayed diagrams indicating the distinctive features of different types of bezoars.

Hermione gasped, affronted. The trichobezoars which were to be sorted into ‘ _scarlet_ ’ lidded jars, a loose reference to Gryffindor house – her house – were essentially just hairballs. He had called her a hairball! The _nerve_ of the man!! Hermione glared hotly at the poster for a short moment, then continued to examine it.

The poster provided information on how to correctly measure bezoars – the average of the diameter on the largest axis plus the diameter across the smallest axis– and the size categories used by most potioneers; starting at ‘less than ten millimetres’ and ending at ‘more than fifty millimetres with four categories in between, each spanning ten millimetres – 10-20, 20-30, 30-40 and 40-50. With this in mind, Hermione donned a pair of latex gloves from the box sitting on the bench, took the extendable ladder – just in case! – and went to the cupboard to collect jars.

Using her wand to levitate each jar safely onto the table designated as her workbench, Hermione counted fourteen jars, six ‘ _scarlet_ ’ lids, six yellow lids and two white lids. When she was done, she levitated the ladder back to its corner, _Accioed_ her own set of red and gold edged magical labels – _take **that** mister Slytherin_ – and set to work with a duplicate of the chart.

Hermione cast a charm to identify the longest and shortest axes of each bezoar; the longer axes glowing purple, whilst the shorter axes glowed green. She then used the callipers to find the diameter across each axis. These were noted on the magical labels as ‘L’ for the long axes and ‘s’ for the short axes.

As she completed the somewhat monotonous task, Hermione's mind began to wander. She came to the very sudden and slightly unsettling realisation that the months since her birthday had fairly passed her by as she remained in a strange sort of emotional daze. So much had changed and she had barely had time to process these changes before something new happened. Unbidden, the thought came that one of Master Fabian’s legendary head-clearing spankings, so described by Marian, would be the perfect solution to her problem. Mentally shaking herself, she quashed that notion and sternly told herself, ‘ _No. The solution is a good, long, logical analysis of the situation and how best to react to it. There is no need to employ such primitive methods_.’

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *From the Latin – ‘Excolo’ meaning ‘refine’ or ‘improve’ and ‘Cuspis’ meaning ‘point’ or ‘pointed end’.


	12. ~ The Lady Prince

“My, my, do my eyes deceive me? Is that a young lady? Why, I do believe it is! Well, I’ll be! I’ve not seen a woman down her since- well, since ‘Cissa collected Severus for young Draco’s eleventh birthday!”

_‘I’m hearing voices now! What on earth is wrong with me?’_ Hermione asked herself as she shook her head, before an unfamiliar voice, high-pitched and proper, jolted her from her reverie.

“My dear young lady, what could possibly have brought you to such a pensive state?”

Hermione stiffened, eyes flickering towards the back wall of the room. Nothing. She emptied her hands and reached subtly for her wand. Her fingers tingled as they brushed over the handle. Almost immediately, a wave of serenity settled over her like a calming blanket. She felt ready for anything – or anyone.

Hopping down from the stool, Hermione turned to examine the room thoroughly. Nothing had changed; the cupboards and drawers were all closed, neither the posters, nor the pins holding them had moved, the woman in the portrait was still there – _‘Wait a moment, I could have sworn that frame was empty when I arrived.’_

“Young lady, it is terribly rude to stare,” said the sallow-faced woman in the portrait, reflexively smoothing her bony hands down the front of her high-collared lilac dress, pressing layer upon layer of white lace ruffles into place.

Hermione jumped, eyes widening. _‘That voice!’_ it was the portrait who had spoken!

Gathering her courage around her like a protective cloak, Hermione sheathed her wand and drew closer to the portrait. “Who are you?” she demanded, though her voice was weak, even to her own ears.

The sallow woman raised her chin, glittering black eyes glaring down a long, pointed nose. “I might ask the same of you. What right have you to skulk about these dungeons?”

“Professor Snape sent me,” she snapped, glaring back at the sharp-featured portrait.

The woman’s eyes softened and her face tilted down, losing some of its severity. “Why would Severus send a student to his laboratory?” she asked suspiciously, casting her eyes over the room. “What is your name?”

Hermione relaxed as the portrait’s hostility dissipated slightly, her voice becoming softer and less biting. Still, she hesitated in her answer, “I-I’m Hermione Granger.”

“Hermione Granger?” The portrait looked amused. “Severus calls you the ‘Insufferable Know-It-All.’ I don’t know why; your essays are always his favourite.

Hermione turned red to the tips of her ears. “Really? He always makes out like he hates them.”

The portrait waved her off, saying, “Oh, that’s probably because he usually finds your work in triplicate. Besides, he’s always been a bit of a drama queen – ever since he could talk.”

“You’ve known him _that_ long?!” Hermione squeaked with surprise, eyes wide.

 “Well, of course I have! He is my grandson, after all!” the portrait replied archly, “And believe you me, he is as dramatic as his grandfather – ridiculous, the pair of them!”

Hermione giggled, returning to her seat so she could work whilst talking. “I had noticed his obsession with billowing cloaks and dramatic entrances.”

The portrait rolled her eyes. “Yes, he learned that from his grandfather, constantly strutting about the house as he was. It’s a charm, you know; emphasises the cloak’s natural movements. If I hadn’t married the man who created it, I’d think it was a Malfoy invention, vain peacocks that they are.”

Hermione had to smother another giggle, covering her mouth with her hand. “They are rather vain. If you don’t mind my asking, what is your name?”

 “Oh, how rude of me,” the woman started. “My name is Catrin Prince; mother to Eileen Prince and grandmother to Severus Snape.” She dropped a small curtsy, smoothing the skirts of her dress as she straightened.

“Really?” Hermione gaped. “Do you know a Tobias Prince?”

Catrin shook her head and her expression soured. “No. Unfortunately, the only ‘Tobias’ I know of is Severus’ tyrant of a father; a disgusting little muggle man, not that I’ve anything against them nowadays. I’ve simply no idea what my daughter ever saw in him.” Her lips curled into a sneer at the thought.

“Oh.” Hermione’s gaze dropped to her hands, her mind running back over recent events.

For a time, there was quiet. The only sound in the room came from the callipers as Hermione fidgeted pensively.

 “What is it that bothers you so, my dear?” Catrin asked, leaning forward attentively.

Hermione shrugged, pushing the callipers away, watching as they slid across the table top, coming to a halt between two specimen jars. “I’m just- confused, I suppose.”

“I see. Perhaps it would be beneficial to talk about it?” she suggested, her tone soothing. Almost motherly. Hermione imagined Professor Snape would have heard it many times in his youth.

“It’s trivial. Feelings. I wouldn’t want to waste your time,” she muttered, reaching across the table to retrieve the callipers.

Catrin snorted in amusement. “It is not as if I’ve anything even remotely pressing to attend. I have all the time in the world. Besides, it should make for a nice change from Severus’ incessant whining. I love the boy, but he desperately needs a hobby.”

“He can’t be that bad-“

 “You haven’t lived with him for the past twenty years,” Catrin interjected, sneering half-heartedly, “Why do you think I have multiple frames?” Hermione fell silent and the pale woman nodded in accomplishment.

“Now, tell me what is bothering you – and stop trying to change the subject!”

Hermione frowned thoughtfully. “I don’t know, really. I mean, I’m supposed to hate this person like my friends do, but with what I know now, I’m not so sure that I can…” she trailed off, catching her lower lip between her teeth and worrying it distractedly.

 “You’ll have no lip left if you continue that,” Catrin scolded lightly. “It might help if you were to tell me of whom you are speaking.”

Hermione turned her attention to the floor, trying to hide her pink cheeks. “U-um it’s- er…” she stammered, twisting her hands nervously. “Looshusmafoy,” she mumbled, far too quickly.

 “What was that? Do speak up, dear.”

Hermione felt herself turn bright red, her ears becoming hot. When she spoke, she forced calm strength into her voice. “Lucius Malfoy.”

“Ah, a fine young man, if a bit self-absorbed. I suppose that would be his father’s doing; a twisted man if ever I saw one. Abusive – emotionally, at least; not unlike Severus’ own father. Abraxas pushed those boys down a fool’s path.” Shaking her head sadly, she tapped her fingers against her gown. “Now just what could he have done to confuse a clever girl like yourself?” ~~~~

She shrugged, looking up to address the woman in the frame. “He’s always been so horrible to me – to my friends! He’s a Deatheater, for Merlin’s sake! He gave Ginny that diary, tried to curse Harry, got into a fight with Mr Weasley-!”

Catrin snickered behind one long-fingered hand, before lowering it to speak. “But..?”

“But… I’m not so sure now. In private, without the entire wizarding world looking on – without the pressure of being _Lucius Malfoy_ – he’s- different. He’s kind, intelligent, couldn’t care less about blood status or Voldemort or any of that nonsense. He’s not ‘Lucius Malfoy the Deatheather’ or ‘Pureblood Malfoy,’ he’s just… Lucius.” Not knowing what else to say, the young witch gave a helpless shrug.

The woman nodded thoughtfully. “He never did share his father’s views. Not truly. I thought he was quite a nice boy; it was his father that pushed him into that whole ‘Deatheater’ lark – and Severus went with him. Those boys were always close. I believe they bonded over the Dark Arts and their fathers.”

Hermione ducked her head as her cheeks lit up once again. “Yes.”

Catrin eyed her suspiciously, but moved on regardless. “What does your mind tell you?”

Hermione frowned, her brows drawing together in thought. “My mind says he’s a horrible man and that I should hate him.”

“What about the rest of you?” Catrin asked.

“The rest of me?” Hermione repeated, more to herself than anything else. “Well, the rest of me certainly doesn’t hate him. In fact, I quite like him when he’s not being a nasty prat. I don’t think ‘Evil’ Lucius is the real Lucius. Considering what you’ve told me, I feel like he hasn’t had much of a say in his life, especially when his dad was around.”

Catrin smiled, flashing a set of pearly, white teeth. “Then you have your answer. Your brain is often best ignored in such dilemmas. Trust your instincts; they will rarely ever lead you astray.’

“You think so?”

“As someone who knows the true Lucius very well, I _know_ so.” The woman in the portrait smirked slightly. Hermione nodded pensively, before a smile broke onto her face.

“Thank you.”

The portrait tutted. “Ah-ah! Not so fast, young lady. Lucius may be a complex character, but even _he_ couldn’t possibly cause such confusion.”

“No – but he caused most of it.”

“What caused the rest?” Catrin asked, giving a knowing smile.

Hermione blushed for what seemed like the hundredth time in such a short period. “It’s nothing. Really.”

Catrin chuckled. “Shall I guess?”

“You can try,” Hermione shrugged nonchalantly, “but I doubt you’ll get it.”

At this, Catrin smirked and tugged at her skirts. She left the frame for a moment, returning with a large, black armchair moving ahead of her, seemingly under its own power. It stopped just to the left of centre, turned inwards so that its occupant would be partially side-on to the outside world. The pale witch seated herself gracefully in the armchair, arranging her skirts neatly, before beginning with, “I suppose a girl of your age would most likely be questioning her sexuality.”

Hermione gaped. She was certain her jaw was on the floor. “How-?”

The portrait smirked. “I happen to be a woman myself and have also raised a daughter. It is a perfectly normal part of growing up. I would wager, however, that your questions are slightly different to the usual?”

Hermione nodded. “You could say that.”

“Am I to assume that you have encountered Miss Marian Rosier?” Catrin asked, raising a dark eyebrow – just like her grandson.

Hermione ducked her head to hide her cherry-red face. “I- I have.”

 “Miss Granger, might I explain to you how you came to arrive at that house? I expect it would have been during a Hogsmeade trip, after your seventeenth birthday?”

 “Actually, I’m 18; I used a time-turner during my third year and gained a year, as well as being born in September, so I was already nearly a year older than my classmates. Otherwise, yes.”

Catrin waved her off.

“The technicalities are irrelevant. What matters is that you were at Hogsmeade and you found yourself at Fiendfyres’. Now, I was never involved in any of that myself, but Fabian and Helina were good friends of mine and we worked for many months on the charms that draw young witches and wizards to the any of the houses.   
“You see, Marian is the Mistress of the Hogsmeade house, so when she hears that a Hogsmeade trip is scheduled, she will raise the charms and wander down to the village. When she reaches a certain location within the village - I believe it was once Madam Puddifoot’s, though it may have changed since - the charms activate. Everything you are is embedded in your magic, which is why each wizard’s magic is distinctly different from that of any other. Your intelligence and sexuality are a part of this.   
“When the charms activate, they expand through the village. If the charms find a person whose sexual … predilections would lead them to enjoy the deviances found at Fiendfyres, then they start to do their work. The person is drawn towards the house, whilst being fed a sensation of calm and certainty to prevent them from panicking. The wielder of the magic – in this case, Marian – can more or less determine where the affected person is. She waits until she can see them, and then follows them up to the house. The rest, as they say, is history.”

Hermione nodded thoughtfully as she absorbed this new information. “So I never really had a choice?”

 “You always have a choice, Miss Granger. Sometimes your magic simply makes that choice for you.”

 “I see,” Hermione replied, scrunching her nose up as she worked through her confusion.

 “My point is, Miss Granger,” Catrin began, slicing through her muddled thoughts, “there is no such thing as ‘normal’. For you, this is normal; these feelings – these desires – are a part of you; your body, your magic. This lifestyle may not be the one for most but, for you, it will be fulfilling. Despite what I assume is a lack of real experience, you will miss it if you leave.”

Hermione bit her lip, quickly releasing it at Catrin’s disapproving look, and nodded. “I suppose you’re right. Thank you, Mrs Prince. I really needed that.”

 “It was my pleasure,” she replied, a smile lighting her features. “Now, on with your work before it gets too late – and with any luck, we’ll meet again.”

Hermione nodded vigorously, beaming at the older woman. “Yes, Ma’am. That would be wonderful. It was lovely to meet you.”

Catrin nodded demurely. “Likewise, Miss Granger. Now, I must be off; I wouldn’t want to get you in trouble with Severus over unfinished work!”

 “Goodbye Mrs Prince,” Hermione replied, waiting as the woman rose from her seat and left the portrait, before returning to her work.

Once she had finished sorting and cataloguing the bezoars, Hermione placed the jars on the bench near the poster, lined up with the red-and-gold Gryffindor stickers clearly visible. With a flick of her wand, the remaining equipment was sterilised and stacked in a drawer and the copy of the poster vanished into nothingness.

Ensuring she had packed everything away, Hermione summoned her school bag and left through the office, pausing momentarily to survey her earlier efforts, before closing the door behind her. She waited for Professor Snape’s wards to activate, then cast a disillusionment charm on herself and hurried back to Gryffindor tower, hoping not to be discovered by Filch. When she entered the common room, it was nearly empty, apart from a few seventh years still studying. She darted past, largely unnoticed, and went to the bathroom to change for bed.

Slipping under the covers, she pulled the curtains across and checked her journal. There was a note from Marian, saying, _‘Hermione, tomorrow we will work on trust. I have asked Master Fabian to assist in the lesson. I would therefore like you to arrive at least fifteen minutes earlier than usual so that you are ready and in position before Master Fabian arrives. Thank you and goodnight.’_

Hermione scribbled a quick acknowledgement and stowed the journal once again. Huddling under the covers, she silently recited Marian’s instructions until she drifted off.

 


	13. ~ Blindsided

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *nervous laughter because I haven’t done any writing or editing in months and I’m half way through my pre-written chapters*

Quidditch. Again. It seemed Harry and Ron could talk of nothing but quidditch – and neither could the rest of the Gryffindor boys, if the rowdy gang was anything to go by.

Hermione dropped to the back of the group as they neared the seventh-floor corridor that hosted the Room of Requirement. When they passed the corridor, she used a subtle jinx to untie her laces. Kneeling to tie them again, she waited until she was alone and then sneaked away.

She paced the corridor until the door appeared in the wall, then, checking that she was unobserved, slipped inside. She decided to apply her glamours and adjust her uniform before going through the fireplace – just in case Master Fabian had decided to arrive early. The room provided a mirror and she checked her appearance, correcting the miniscule flaws in her glamours. She then took a handful of floo powder, tossing it into the grate and stepping through.

Hermione was glad of her forethought. When she stepped out of the fireplace, Marian was already seated in an armchair. Across from her was a long man with tanned skin and a tidy, but lop-sided beard. His bushy eyebrows looked severe above gentle eyes, out of place on such a worn face. His lips, the top one thin and mostly hidden by his moustache, were pulled down into a frown, though he seemed to be neither happy or upset. Both were holding delicate teacups.

Guessing that this was the reputed Master Fabian, Hermione immediately knelt on the cushion and bowed her head. It was placed between the two of them, and she was sure it had been done quite deliberately. The seconds dragged painfully as the trio sat in silence.

Finally, with a rustle of heavy fabric, Fabian stood. Hermione watched his booted feet – seriously, what was it with men and boots? – until he passed behind her. As he circled the kneeling witch, his fingers played lightly over her flesh, with a touch so light it could have been a feather or even a draught in the room. It was with a glow of pleasure that she realised he didn’t even attempt to correct her position.

After several laps, his fingers touched her chin and nudged gently, indicating that she should look up. He looked into her face for a long moment, then nodded and stepped back.

“You have done well, Marian. She’s a fine young lady, and a gifted submissive.” Fabian glanced back to Hermione. “How long did you say you’ve had her?”

Marian smiled proudly, her green eyes sparkling. “Two months, Sir. She has been a pleasure to train – intelligent, quick to learn and naturally submissive.”

“Two months?” Fabian’s bushy brows shot up in surprise. “She certainly is a quick study – and I must say, I agree with your judgement in matching her with Abraxas and Tobias. Especially if she’s as fiery as you say.” His full attention turned to Hermione then, his bright eyes fixing on her own. “Tell me, what is the identity you use in public events? You may speak freely.”

Hermione glanced nervously to Marian, before answering, “My name is Leda, after the Greek woman, mother of Helen of Troy and the Dioscuri. The appearance you see now is the work of glamours, used to hide my identity and the age I use is the same as my own; eighteen.”

Fabian considered this information for a few moments, his kind eyes meeting hers. When he spoke again, there was approval in his tone. “The glamours are fantastic. I might go so far as to say flawless, even. May I enquire as to your true identity?”

This time, Hermione looked to Marian properly, seeking permission. At her mistress’ nod, the young witch turned back to Fabian, taking a deep, steadying breath before taking the plunge; If she hesitated, she might lose her nerve. “My name is Hermione Granger. I am one of Harry Potter’s best friends, and in my sixth year at Hogwarts.”

Fabian nodded, “Ah yes. I believe I might have seen you several times in the _Prophet_ during the Tri-Wizard Tournament. Bushy hair, quite short compared to your companions.”

"I can't help being short, Sir."

Fabian smirked, then chuckled, shaking his head. “Don’t worry, little witch. While I’ve nothing against tall submissives, there is something especially alluring about such a petite creature. It’s a boost to our fragile male egos.”

Hermione blushed and ducked her head.

Fabian laughed once again and produced a length of black silk. “Very well, let’s continue. As Marian may have mentioned in her message last night, we shall be doing some trust exercises. During these exercises, you will be blindfolded and I will guide you, first around the room, then through parts of the building and finally in tasks of varying complexity. You will learn to trust your Master’s judgement and do exactly as you are told. It is also important to understand how far is too far and when to use your safe word, but that is something we will work on more specifically at a later date.”

Hermione nodded her head in understanding and, at Fabian’s command, stood to receive the blindfold. He walked behind her, tying the strip of silk across her eyes with swift, sure fingers.

Fabian placed his hands lightly on her shoulders and began to guide her about the room with his voice. His orders were short and precise, as if meant for a soldier. As they moved around the room his hands remained on Hermione’s shoulders, applying light pressure to indicate what he wanted her to do, along with his verbal directions.

After a few minutes and several weaving circuits of the room, he removed his hands and continued to direct her about the room. Without the help of his physical guidance, Hermione found herself unable to stop on time, resulting in a few bruises on her shins, a sore nose and a tumble into an armchair that left Fabian laughing raucously.

She soon learned to react quickly to his words – to avoid any further injuries.

When Fabian was satisfied that she could follow his directions adequately, the door was opened and she was directed out into the corridor. They spent some time there manoeuvring around the halls, before heading to the stairs. She had to concentrate to manage them, almost tripping a number of times. It was a shock to her how much she relied upon her sight to do such an everyday task.

The trio wound their way around each floor of the building. Occasionally, Fabian instructed her to enter a room, to see how she manoeuvred around the furniture, or to collect something that he said, rather vaguely, would be used later.

Finally, the group headed down to the dungeons.

Fabian directed her to the room behind the podiums and, with a flick of his wand, transfigured her socks into black stockings and her shoes into a pair of stilettos. Hermione wobbled at the sudden change and Fabian offered his hand for her to regain her balance.

When he was satisfied that she wouldn’t fall over, he released her once again and guided her out onto the carpet.

He had her follow the route she had taken at her debut, before directing her up the stairs. She was instructed to walk until he halted her.

Nervous, but certain that Fabian wouldn’t send her off the edge of the platform intentionally, Hermione walked on at a steady pace, stopping only at Fabian’s sharp, “Halt.” She brought her feet together, toes hanging off the edge of the podium.

Leaving her in this precarious position, Fabian chose that moment to test her common sense. “Now Hermione, knowing the height of that podium, would you continue to walk if I requested it of you?”

“No, Sir,” she said, nerves starting to nibble at her insides. He wouldn’t punish her for being honest, would he?

Fabian hummed thoughtfully for a moment, and then she felt the tell-tale tingling of magic beneath her feet. She wasn’t sure what was going on, but her pulse spiked.

“Walk forward, Hermione.” The commanding tone in his voice was obvious, but it didn’t stop her from hesitating. Was it just to see if she would follow his instructions? Hermione hadn’t seen cruelty in his eyes, but then, she had recently come to accept that people weren’t all they seemed. “I said, walk forward, Hermione.”

Taking a deep breath, Hermione stepped forward, relieved when she found solid ground mere centimetres below.

His instructions eventually led her across the room. She vaguely remembered the layout from her debut night, and realised he was taking her to the Saint Andrew’s Cross.

She stepped up onto the short platform and stood patiently as Fabian wrapped the leather cuffs first around her wrists, then her ankles, stretching her back and limbs to reach, though not painfully.

“Hermione?” Marian called.

Hermione raised her chin in acknowledgement.

“We are going to take some muggle photographs of you, which will go into your file, along with your contract. They won’t be used or viewed by anyone without your approval. Most of my submissives have preferred to have their profile photos taken during this activity, but you are allowed to say ‘no’.”

Hermione nodded. “Yes Mistress, if you wish.”

“Very good, Hermione,” Marian replied, sounding quite proud of her willingness.

Moments later, Hermione heard a series of clicks as Marian took several pictures. She was then brought down from the cross and directed to a set of upright stocks. Her hands and neck were secured, tight, but not uncomfortably so. Fabian guided her feet back, pressing down on the middle of her back to make her back arch, resulting in her bum being pushed out. After that came more contortions, guided by the elderly wizard – her head was tilted back to expose her slender neck to the viewer, her skirt was raised, revealing the not-so-innocent, ruby knickers she had worn, and her shirt was opened, revealing the matching bra. Fabian charmed her tie gold in keeping with the Gryffindor theme, and let it hang between her breasts.

It sounded like the photos were being taken from all angles, making her cheeks turn bright red. The sensation – being so exposed, so vulnerable – sent a thrill down her back, and a bolt of pleasure to her core. Not long after, Fabian released her, firm hands pressing against her back, which had grown tight after holding the strange pose. Her muscles loosened with his skilled ministrations, and a light moan escaped her lips.

Finally, he released her once again, directing her over to one final apparatus. Hermione was guided to kneel on a set of pads, her hips and thighs touching a raised bar, with her forearms on a set of pads raised higher. Once again, she was strapped in, the restraint making her arch her back. The camera clicked a few more times, before her skirt was flipped up and the process repeated. Fabian stepped back in, but he didn’t release her. Instead, he spoke, his voice soft.

“Hermione, I am going to spank you ten times. Just with my hand and only enough to make you red. It will be nothing like your recent experience and if it becomes too much, you need only tell me to stop.”

Hermione nodded. “Yes, Sir.”

“Ready?”

Hermione took a deep breath to steady herself, then replied, “I think so, Sir.”

“Count.”

She didn’t have time to respond as he swatted her lightly.

“One.”

“Good.”

Two more swats.

“Two, three.”

This time, his hand hit harder, causing a red handprint to form on her pale skin.

“Four.”

The rest of his blows were consistent, the impact spread evenly between her cheeks. When the final count was reached, he decided he was satisfied with her colouring. There was a rustling of his robes, and then the camera clicked again. “Well done, Hermione,” Fabian said, “You handled that better than expected.”

Hermione panted, struggling to regain her composure, but answered nonetheless, “Thank you, Sir.”

Fabian released Hermione from the bench, his hands pressing firmly into her muscles as he massaged them once again. He had her stand straight as a rod whilst he tended to the hot flesh of her arse. A cool, gel-like substance was rubbed into it. When the sting started to fade, she guessed it was either a bruise paste, a numbing cream, or a mixture of the two.

Fabian held her elbow as she walked a few steps. His grip was gentle, but when she stumbled slightly he held her up with ease. Once he was certain she was steady on her feet, his hand dropped and he lead her back to the training room.

Once they had entered the room, Fabian guided her to the coffee table, checking his charm had kept the tea warm. Setting out three teacups and saucers, he sat and observed her pouring the fragrant drinks for them. Marian took her seat, and once Hermione had served, she returned to her cushion. A comfortable silence settled over the room again, broken only by the clink of china as they sipped.

Hermione’s eyes were still covered as she listened intently to the sounds of the room, almost jumping in surprise when Fabian suddenly spoke, “Once again, Marian, I find myself congratulating you on a job well done.”

Hermione heard the pride in Marian’s voice as she replied, “Thank you, Sir, but I think Hermione is the one who deserves your praise. She has worked exceptionally hard these past months and has even managed to fool Filius Flitwick with her glamours.”

Fabian inhaled sharply, the air whistling through his crooked nose, bent slightly to the left, Hermione recalled. “And Snape?”

Hermione swallowed the urge to correct him _‘Professor Snape’_.

“He has been unable to see through them yet,” Marian answered, “Though he has tried.”

“Occlumency?”

“Practically impenetrable, again, even to Severus Snape. Her Legillimency is exceptionally strong too.”

The was a pause as Fabian considered this. “Abraxas mentioned that the incident a few days ago involved her. How has she recovered?”

“Professor Snape made some bruise paste and Tobias mentioned that she was a bit skittish when he applied it for her, but that Abraxas’ immediate aftercare seems to have minimised any psychological damage, though perhaps it would be prudent to ask Hermione herself?”

Fabian hummed thoughtfully. “Yes, of course. Hermione?”

Hermione nodded. “I’m okay, Sir. The bruises are gone, as you saw, and I didn’t mind your spanking.”

“I see. Do you have any questions you would like to ask whilst I am here, Hermione?” Being blinded by the silk, Hermione’s hearing had sharpened, and she heard the genuine interest in his soft words.

“I do, Sir. I’d like to know what happened to that man and why he did it in the first place.”

“Very well, that is only fair. The man was intoxicated, something I refuse to tolerate in my clubs, as those who are drunk tend to be less thoughtful to their charges. He isn’t – and wasn’t – a member of Fiendfyre’s, but rather a member of associate clubs in America. After consulting with my opposite member across the Atlantic, I have discovered that it was not his first misstep, and was unlikely to be his last. As a result, he has been banned from all of my clubs, and I have sent messages to my friends and associates around the world. He will be hard pressed to find anywhere willing to accept him, except perhaps in Asia or Russia. Still, you do not need to worry about him in any of my facilities, I can assure you.” Fabian had hesitated for half a moment before speaking. There was a bite of anger to his words, sending a shiver running down her spine, even though she knew that it wasn’t directed at her.

“Thank you.”

“Of course, Hermione. We take these matters very seriously to protect the safety of our members.”

Marian, who had been quietly sipping her tea throughout their conversation chose this moment to speak. “Fabian, do you still agree with my previous judgement – matching her with Tobias and Abraxas?”

“I think-” Fabian stopped abruptly and Hermione tensed as she felt powerful magic flooding the room.

She had to clench her jaw to stop herself from gasping when the familiar voice of her Defence Professor reached her ears.

“Mari, have Lucius meet me in our room and get Hermione and the Potter boy out. Hogwarts may be compromised.”

Hermione shivered and waited nervously as Marian conjured her patronus to reply, “Hermione is with me. I will send Fabian to collect Potter and Lucius.”

Hermione jerked as nimble fingers released the blindfold and blinked as it fell away, her eyes slowly adjusting to the brightness of the room. Fabian dropped the blindfold on the table in front of her and turned to the fireplace.

Before he could throw in the floo powder, Hermione blurted, “Get the Weasleys and Draco too!” then, as an afterthought, added, “Please, Sir.”

Fabian nodded curtly. “I will do what I can.”

 


	14. ~ In Flagrante

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Dude-bros, readers, peopleses, I have just spent 3 hours getting my (rainbow) hair touched up, a little refresher for the dyes, and I’m posting this chapter as I wait in the nail salon for someone to come give me rainbow nails. I’m not girly, I just like rainbows ‘cause they’re pretty. Enjoy! There’s a little bit of.. impropriety here, so youngsters and those who don’t want to read that stuffety stuff, watch out and turn your eyes away for a few paragraphs towards the end. Please read at least the last 14 paragraphs though.

“Harry!” Hermione wrapped the green-eyed boy in a tight embrace as he stumbled through the fireplace.

“Hermione? H-how did you get here?” Harry asked, blinking in surprise as he slowly hugged her back.

“Don’t worry about me – are you okay?”

“I’m fine. This Fabian guy pulled me out of dinner and the teachers just… let him. He took Ron and Draco too. They’ll be through soon – after they finish arguing,” That elicited a soft chuckle from the both of them, before Harry added, “Fabian went back to get Ginny, as well.”

Hermione nodded, her attention turning to the fireplace as it flared. In quick succession, Ron and Draco stepped from the spitting flames.

“What took you so long?” Hermione asked irritably. “What were you even fighting about?”

Ron had the sense to look somewhat ashamed, but Draco, mostly unfamiliar with Hermione’s temper, straightened his spine and sneered down at the little witch. “Your mulish friend here thought this was some stupid trap. As if I would do something so obvious.”

Hermione glared at the blond-haired boy.

Ron hurried to join Harry, who was standing behind Hermione and out of the firing line. The two boys backed away slowly, and Harry tried to catch Draco’s attention, flapping his hands about, before drawing his finger across his neck in an attempt to warn the other boy of the impending danger.

“Draco Lucius Malfoy, if you wish to retain your ability to walk comfortably, I suggest you apologise, then _SHUT_ _UP_!”

Draco, eyes slightly wider than usual, shifted uncomfortably, trying to maintain his imperious attitude, before swallowing thickly and mumbling, “Sorry.”

“Properly,” Hermione admonished.

Draco scowled at his shoes, then looked to Ron. “I’m- sorry. Weasley.”

“Better. Your father will hear about this.”

Harry and Ron snickered at Hermione’s use of Draco’s favourite line. Draco glared at her, but remained silent.

“So do you know what’s going on?” Harry asked.

All eyes were on Hermione as she shook her head before answering, “I’m not really sure. I was here already, studying with Fabian, then a patronus came. It sounded rather urgent, and the voice was kind of familiar. They asked Fabian to summon L-Mr Malfoy and to get you out of Hogwarts, Harry. As he was leaving, I asked him to get the Weasleys and Draco if he could.”

“Why Malfoy?” Ron inquired, a hint of disgust in his tone.

“I figured that, if his father was coming, it would be easier to just fetch him along with you, rather than going back later,” Hermione shrugged, trying to remain casual.

“I am in the room, you know,” Draco added, his bottom lip stuck out in a childish pout.

“Yes – and you’re supposed to be shutting up,” Hermione snapped back.

Draco glared. “Fine. But only if you tell me how you know my middle name.”

“Tradition, you idiot,” Hermione answered sharply. “Traditionally, the Malfoy family gives their firstborn son the name of the father as a middle name. Your father’s name is Lucius Abraxas Malfoy and he’s not one to break tradition with his father looking over his shoulder, so your name would have to be Draco Lucius Malfoy. It’s really not that hard to work out if you engage your brain.”

Draco’s eyes narrowed and his lips thinned as he wandered away from the group. He sat upon the sofa against the far wall, well aware that, given the limited number of seats in the room, someone would eventually have to share with him.

Hermione watched him settle in, and then turned back to her boys. She pulled them both into a tight hug, only seconds before Ginny stepped out of the fire. As she waved the younger girl over, Fabian followed her from the flames.

Draco was still sulking on the sofa and Hermione opened up a space in their circle, and gestured for him to join them.

When he remained firmly planted on the sofa, she rolled her eyes and said, “Come on, Ferret. Get over here.”

Giving a frustrated whine, Draco stood and joined them reluctantly, allowing Hermione and Harry to wrap their arms around his shoulders.

The group remained like that for several minutes, drawing comfort from one another. They eventually released each other and Draco returned to his seat, followed by the rest of the group, everyone hurrying to snag a seat away from Draco, who wore a knowing smirk the entire time.

Unfortunately for Harry, Hermione had the advantage of experience and managed to snag the armchair he was headed for. By the time he turned to the second sofa, Ron and Ginny were already seated, forcing him to sit with Draco.

Hermione shook her head at their antics; she had only wanted the armchair for its softness on her slightly tender backside and the modicum of peace it would offer. The room fell into silence as Hermione tilted her head back and closed her eyes. Of course, with two Weasleys and a Potter in the same place, the quiet was never going to last. Soon enough, she could hear a frantic discussion being conducted in hushed voices. Tuning out the conversation, she took a deep breath and relaxed once more.

Fabian knocked on the door some twenty minutes later, offering food and refreshments. The group eagerly accepted and Ron asked if there was a chess set available. Fabian smiled patiently and explained that the only chess set currently available was a muggle one. After some consideration, the red-haired boy nodded, saying, “We’ll give it a go. Right, Gin?”

To this, Ginny rolled her eyes and groaned, but agreed nonetheless.

Fabian agreed to send the board with the elf delivering their lunch and quietly backed out of the room.

Mere moments later, Pippi popped into the room, carrying a tray easily twice her size. It was laden with treats and sandwiches, a pot of tea and cups, and pitchers of orange juice and water. The little elf carefully laid the tray onto the coffee table, jumping out of the way with a squeak as the three boys descended on the food like a flock of hungry gulls.

Approaching the red-haired girl timidly, Pippi produced a muggle chess set from her pink, frilly pillowcase dress and offered it to her.

Ginny smiled sweetly at the little creature and took the chess set from her hands with a soft, “Thank you.”

Eventually, Ron stopped eating from the self-filling platter and turned to Ginny.

The pair quietly set up the board and began their game.

“Knight to C-three.” When the piece didn’t move, Ron groaned loudly and picked up the piece slamming it down on the board with a loud clunk. This caused the rest of the group to snicker amusedly, earning them a heated glare.

The game continued like this for several turns, much to Ron’s frustration, before he finally got the hang of playing without magic and the room fell quiet once more.

Several minutes passed in this silence, broken only by the clicking of the chess pieces as they were moved around the board. Even with her eyes closed, Hermione could feel the tension emanating from the sofa to her right. Harry and Draco had been sitting quietly, shuffling awkwardly every so often, trying to keep as far apart as the sofa would allow.

As the tension from the two boys began to gnaw at her nerves, Hermione cracked her eyes open and made eye contact with Draco just long enough to slip into his mind. She was surprised when the reason for their discomfort – or Draco’s, at least – was right on the surface of his thoughts. She had to suppress a smirk as she felt Draco’s attraction to the shaggy-haired boy sharing the sofa with him. She withdrew and turned her attention to Harry.

Hermione had to be far more careful when she dipped into Harry’s thoughts. Whilst Draco had received some Occlumency training – probably from Professor Snape himself – he had never experienced contact with Hermione’s mind. Harry, on the other hand, had practised both Legillimency and Occlumency with her, and would recognise her instantly if he realised she was there. 

Treading carefully, Hermione observed the pink tinge on her friend’s cheeks and watched him shuffle himself further away from Draco. She made a point of stretching and looking around the room to hide her intentions, catching Harry’s eye momentarily on her way around and slipping into his thoughts.

She spent a short while hovering at the very edges of his mind to ensure he hadn’t noticed what she was doing, then slowly pushed deeper until she could clearly see his surface thoughts. One thought in particular caught her eye, and as she watched it play out, she realised it must be the cause of Harry’s embarrassment. Pulling away from the lewd daydream scene, Hermione retreated, closed her eyes once again and waited to see if the boys would initiate anything themselves.

Despite trying to relax, her mind was racing. The voice from the patronus, so clearly that of her professor, continued to play in her mind, over and over, as if someone had hit ‘repeat’. It was clear now that Professor Snape had to be Marian’s contact at the school. He was the only person, other than Dumbledore, with the freedom to come and go as he pleased – even the other professors couldn’t leave without preparation and a good explanation. Hermione found she was actually quite disappointed in herself for not having figured it out sooner; the portrait of Catrin Prince had practically handed the information to her on a silver platter – his mother’s maiden name was Prince and his father’s name was Tobias; he spoke with the same deep, rich purr; his fingers were as incredibly nimble as would be expected of a Potions Master and he was an extremely gifted Legillimens. All he had really done was switch hair and eye colours with Lucius… and something else that she couldn’t quite pinpoint.

Deciding to leave that train of thought for the time being, Hermione fortified her mental barriers, before opening her eyes. It wouldn’t do for anyone to skim through her thoughts and find that. She was greeted with a sight almost identical to that of the last time she had opened her eyes; Ron and Ginny were still playing chess, albeit in a new game, and Harry and Draco continued to shuffle as far apart as possible.

Rolling her eyes, she slowly withdrew her wand from the holster on her arm and hid it behind her leg as she pointed it at the sofa. With a swish and a silent command, the sofa began to shrink slowly – painfully so – drawing the two oblivious boys ever closer together.

The two were almost touching – and still unaware – when there was a firm knock on the door. Hastily stuffing her wand back up her sleeve, she turned towards the door as it opened.

Hermione recognised the man as Lucius instantly, despite the long, black hair that framed his face, and the equally dark, obsidian eyes that glinted playfully in the brightly lit room.

“Miss Granger,” he called, his lips flickering into a smirk before he could stop them, “I have those notes you asked for?”

“What notes?” Ron interrupted, scowling at the beautiful man in the doorway.

“Not that it would be any of your business, Ronald, but if you must know, they’re for Ancient Runes,” she said icily, her gaze as cool as her voice.

Ron blushed, quickly busying himself with the chess game, whilst Ginny smirked to herself at his embarrassment.

At Lucius’ raised eyebrow, Hermione stood and followed him out into the hallway. Grinning like a cat that got the cream, he wrapped his arm firmly around her waist, pulling her body hard against his own. He tapped his wand lightly against her backside and her uniform shrunk to a size entirely inappropriate for school.

Returning his wand to wherever it had been – Hermione couldn’t tell – he slipped his hand under her skirt and pinched her bottom, causing her to jerk against him. Grinning, he bent to brush his lips over her neck, his warm breath sending a shiver through her body, before nipping at her skin, leaving a trail of bruises down the curve of her neck and throat.

When the pair heard a thud inside the room, and Ginny’s loud demand that someone ‘explore’ with her, they decided to move, without exchanging so much as a word. The three boys could be heard protesting, before one groaned audibly, and footsteps headed towards the door.

Thinking quickly, Lucius removed her tie, transfigured her shoes and helped her place her glamours, adding a few extra touches – “to be safe”. Just in time, he lifted her up, crushing her into the wall and pressing his mouth to hers.

She had barely wrapped her arms and legs around him when the door flew open and Ginny bounced out, followed by a grumbling Ron. Both stopped in their tracks as they turned and came face-to-face with the couple. Ginny squeaked, then scowled, bringing her hands to her hips in an uncomfortably accurate imitation of her mother.

“ _You’re_ supposed to be with Hermione!”

Lucius growled and slowly pulled away. “That is correct.”

“So? Where is she?” Ginny demanded.

“I would say that’s none of your business. Now get back inside, before Fabian finds you out here – or worse, Marian,” Lucius ordered, his eyes cold.

Ginny sneered at him, but turned and stormed back inside, dragging along a mesmerised Ron, who didn’t quite know what to look at first, between her heaving chest and exposed arse.

“That wasn’t very nice,” Hermione said reproachfully, although she couldn’t entirely hide her amusement.

“Being nice wouldn’t have made them go back inside,” Lucius replied haughtily. “Now, let’s get you somewhere… private.” He grinned, glancing down at her flushed chest.

Lowering her gently to the floor, Lucius opened the door to the room and ushered her inside, ignoring her blatant confusion, and that of the four pairs of eyes who were watching. She shot him a look that was half smirk, half scowl when he tapped her backside. He met her gaze with a smirk of his own, a salacious expression that spoke of mischief and impropriety. His hand slid down her spine, over the curve of her arse as he guided her to the fireplace.

He threw in a handful of floo powder, said, “Private room,” and pushed Hermione through ahead of him.

When the pair stepped into the room Lucius shared with Professor Snape, Hermione wasn’t prepared to see the teacher – glamoured, of course – sprawled in an armchair. His silver eyes burned right through her, sending a shiver through her core. She shuddered at the sensation, barely able to stop herself from dropping to her knees.

His voice was soft when he spoke, but no less powerful for that. “Lucius, give her to me.”

Hermione trembled, with excitement or fear, she couldn’t tell. Lucius did as he was bid, pushing her towards Snape, now stood tall and proud, his gaze imperious. 

With a speed she hadn’t known he possessed, he grasped her waist and pulled her into a searing kiss, which only served to weaken her knees and redden her cheeks as her body melted into his.

Her arms encircled his neck, holding on for dear life as she slipped downwards, until he lifted her, hooking his arms under her thighs and grasping her arse, pushing her into something warm and solid – Lucius, if she had to guess.

Her speculation was confirmed when a second set of lips began trailing hot kisses along her neck, while long-fingered hands worked nimbly on her buttons, opening her modified school blouse and pushing it aside to palm her breasts.

Hermione groaned, finally finding the strength to pull away from her professor’s lips. “Wait – what if – Marian –” she panted, trying to form a coherent sentence, before a moan cut through her words. Snape had bit into her neck, thrusting his rigid cock against her. Heat flared within her, paired with a rising need that pushed aside all sense.

“We will deal with Marian,” he muttered, “You worry about putting that pretty, little mouth to good use.”

A shiver trailed up her spine at the implication of his words and her mouth dropped open, forming a small ‘o’, which she quickly found filled by Professor Snape’s thumb.

He commanded her to suck and she did so, hollowing her cheeks like she had seen in the books and brushing her tongue against the pad of his thumb.

Lucius’ right hand left her breast to take the place vacated by her professor’s left, his fingers creeping under her knickers to slide through her wet folds. She jerked when his middle finger circled her clitoris and moaned around the thumb in her mouth as the digit slipped inside her, probing gently against her soft walls.

“ _What_ do you two think you’re doing?”

The two men almost dropped Hermione as Marian’s sharp voice cut across the room. Instead, they hastily returned her to her feet and tried to placate the irate witch approaching them by stepping away.

“I’m expecting an answer,” Marian growled, her eyes narrowed dangerously.

“We were simply offering – ahem – comfort,” Lucius offered, in a stuttered attempt to maintain his suave façade.

Marian sneered. “Try again.”

“We intend to collar her,” Severus interjected, saying what he knew Marian had been waiting to hear since the night of Hermione’s debut.

“Did you decide that before or after you got caught?” Marian challenged

“We had meant to discuss it with you today, but came across her first,” Lucius smoothed.

Severus nodded in confirmation. “Relief for her safety got the better of us.”

Marian glared dangerously at the two smooth-talking men for some minutes, before letting out a shout of frustration and throwing her hands in the air.

“Very well. But! You are _not_ to touch her until she has been collared, and I will not sanction that until _after_ the Yule Ball, which you will _all_ attend. Do I make myself clear?”

The two men groaned in unison.

“But Mari! That’s over a _month_ away!” Lucius whined, affecting a childish pout that only caused Marian to roll her eyes.

“You shouldn’t have gotten caught.” With that, Marian took Hermione by the wrist, turned on her heel and stormed out the door, pulling a shell-shocked Hermione in her wake.

 


	15. ~ Waxed Peacock

Marian could barely contain her excitement as the two made their way back to her office. Her lips had pulled up into a Cheshire Cat’s grin the second the door had closed behind them. Had she been the type, Hermione was quite sure she would have skipped the entire way to her office. As it was, there was a noticeable bounce in her step.

Shortly after they had seated themselves across the desk from one another, there was a light knock on the door, and Fabian entered without waiting for a reply. He immediately noticed Marian’s triumphant expression and, taking an educated guess, said, “They’re collaring her?”

Marian nodded giddily and pulled out a sheaf of papers, seemingly from nowhere. “You know you have to sign for this one, so let’s get started.”

“What happened to making them wait for Christmas?”

“Oh, I’m still making them wait. I just want to make sure everything’s in order for the day.” Marian grinned cheekily.

Shaking his head with ill-restrained amusement, Fabian chuckled. “I suppose you could do worse.”

“I can – and I will.” Marian responded curtly.

“Merlin help us,” Fabian muttered, pinching the bridge of his nose. With a shake of his head, he joined Marian at her desk and signed the necessary forms. When he was done, Marian slid the papers across to Hermione for her to read and sign. Both the witch and wizard watched as her sharp eyes flittered across the lines of ink, biting her lower lip absently before she gave it her signature. Fabian picked up the bundle and left the room.

Once he had left, Marian took a moment to re-centre herself, and then let her eyes run over Hermione. Her lips pursed and brow furrowed. Her lips were swollen and her tie was missing. Marian didn’t expect the boys to be very observant, but if Hermione returned as herself in her current state – it wouldn’t take long for the Weasley girl to start putting two and two together. She may only get three, but that would still be far too much.

“Hermione?” The girl jumped as Marian suddenly spoke. “I’m going to have to retrieve your tie. Would you like to wait here, or re-join your friends as you are – disguised, of course.”

Frowning, Hermione thought for a moment before saying, “Ginny wanted to have a look around. Would it be okay if I stay as I am and give her a little tour?”

“That should be fine. Tobias will modify her memory if she becomes an issue.”

Hermione smiled. “Thank you, Mistress.”

Marian waved her off and opened the door, gesturing her out, before following her into the hallway and locking the door in the process. The pair walked down the corridor together, before eventually parting ways. Hermione headed down to the training room, where her friends were waiting. She paused outside the door to straighten her slightly twisted clothing, ensuring her skirt was neat and her blouse alluringly tight. She adjusted the straps on her high-heeled shoes, then pushed the door open and strode inside.

She remained still and calm as all four occupants of the room turned to look at her – or glare, in Ginny’s case.

Softening her voice to avoid being recognised, Hermione gestured over her shoulder and said, “Marian said I could show you around if you want.”

Ginny huffed, but stood anyway and headed to the door, followed by a slightly less reluctant Ron, whose eyes had been practically glued to her breasts since the moment the door had opened.

Hermione smiled politely and led them through the building, pausing occasionally to answer questions and point out specific features of the building.

As the trio passed some of the private rooms, they heard a door behind them open and close, along with a short burst of laughter which was cut off as the door clicked shut. Hermione turned in the direction of what she knew to be Masters Abraxas and Tobias’ private room and smiled upon seeing Marian standing outside.

Marian moved her hand behind her back to hide the tie she had retrieved and returned Hermione’s smile. “Leda, come and see me in my office when you are done.”

Hermione ducked her head instinctively, answering, “Yes, Mistress. We shouldn’t be much longer.”

“Good. Give it ten minutes and check on those two, will you?” The older witch said, gesturing at the door behind her. “Knock first.”

Hermione nodded and waited for Marian to leave before continuing the tour.

Ginny, now suspicious of their guide’s submissive behaviour quickened her steps to catch up, leaving Ron to slobber all over himself in their wake. “What kind of place is this?” she demanded.

“Are you sure you want to know?”

“Tell me.”

“This is a ‘kink club’ – Fabian is the owner and Marian manages this house; there are several others,” Hermione answered, not bothering to sugar-coat the matter.

 “Y-you’re kidding… right?” Ron stuttered, his eyes wide as saucers.

Ginny, meanwhile, eyed her sceptically. “Don’t your kind usually wear a collar?”

Hermione bit her tongue and inhaled deeply to stop herself snapping. “Firstly, not all subs are female. Secondly, I’m not collared – yet. I am spoken for, though.”

“So, in other words, my brother has about as much chance with you as a sparrow does against a hawk,” Ginny quipped, turning so that Ron wouldn’t see her smirk.

Hermione wanted to snicker, but forced herself to remain polite. “That is correct.”

Behind them, Rod grumbled.

As they reached the end of the corridor, dominated by a floor-to-ceiling window bewitched to show an ocean-scene, Hermione glanced at her two companions. “Well, this is as far as we can go. Shall we head back?”

The two Weasleys looked at each other, then nodded silently and followed Hermione back down the hall. They stopped by the room Marian had come out of and Hermione knocked lightly.

“What?” came the grumpy reply from within.

With a roll of her eyes, Hermione replied, “It’s Leda. Marian sent me and I’ve got guests.”

“One moment.”

“You’ve got ‘til five.” Hermione smirked. “One… Two…”

“Fuck.”

She giggled. “Three… Four… Four and a half…”

Just as she had opened her mouth to say ‘Five,’ Master Tobias tore the door open, glaring down at the little witch, then at her companions.

“What do you want?” he growled.

“Marian asked me to check on you,” she answered, noticing as she did that he was carefully taking up the entire doorway – or as much as he could with his wiry frame. “What’s going on in there? You’re up to something, I can tell.”

“I’ll kill that witch,” Tobias snarled, moving his arm so that Hermione could barely see inside, skilfully keeping the Weasleys’ view blocked.

Peering over his arm, Hermione’s cheeks flushed almost instantly; Lucius, now disguised as Master Abraxas, was tied to a tilted St Andrew’s Cross, a ring around his turgid cock and some kind of jewel glittering between his arse cheeks. His entire chest was covered in wax of all colours, forming an incomplete peacock whose magnificent tail feathers fanned out over his broad chest.

The man in question winked cheekily at her, before throwing his head back and groaning loudly as the jewel twitched and grew.

Ginny’s eyes widened at the strange sound and she stood up on tip-toes trying unsuccessfully to peek over Master Tobias’ shoulder. “What was that?”

Hermione, uncertain of how to answer, looked to the man in front of her, stuttering nonsensically, while her chest heaved and legs trembled.

Rolling his eyes at her wanton reaction, Tobias answered, “None of your bloody business. Goodbye.” The door was promptly slammed in their faces, just barely bumping Hermione’s nose as it caught in the latch.

Hermione shut her mouth with a click and said nothing as she led her two guests back to join Harry and Draco.

As they returned to the room, Hermione paused before opening the door and tapped her wand against the wood. The door became transparent – to her, at least – and she smiled at the two boys within whose pinky-fingers were linked, despite the rest of their bodies being turned away from each other.

Not wanting to make them any more uncomfortable, Hermione knocked on the door and waited a few seconds, before opening it and ushering the two Weasleys inside. With a quick wave goodbye, Hermione closed the door and headed to Marian’s office.

The door swung open just as Hermione raised her fist to knock and Marian smiled at her from behind her desk.

“Come in, Hermione.”

Hermione did as she was instructed and took the seat opposite Marian. “Was there something you wanted me for? Other than getting my tie back, that is.”

“Yes, actually,” Marian said with a conspiratorial smile spreading across her face as she handed back the tie. Since Tobias and Abraxas aren’t allowed to touch you until Christmas – they’ve taken a Wizard’s Oath to that effect – I’d like you to do everything in your power to make them break that oath. There will be no serious repercussions if they do and platonic or accidental contact is allowed, but I want to make this as hard for them as possible.”

Hermione frowned. “Isn’t that a bit mean?”

“It is, but I do know what I’m doing – and Fabian can overrule my decision at any point if he thinks I’m being unfair.”

“Okay,” she agreed hesitantly, before adding, “as long as no-one gets hurt.”

Marian reached across the desk and patted her hand reassuringly. “They won’t.”

Hermione smiled. “Is there anything specific you’d like me to do?”

“Not particularly, but I’m going to move the bracelets back onto your wrists.”

Knowing now that Professor Snape would be no danger to her, Hermione agreed and held out her arms. When the bracelets were safely back around her wrists, Hermione tied her tie and carefully removed the glamours, before transfiguring her clothing back to normal.

Marian opened the door for her and followed her back down to re-join her friends.

The second her schoolmates caught sight of her, Hermione was bombarded with questions.

“Where were you?”

“Who was that guy?”

“Who was that woman he was with?”

Rolling her eyes, Hermione jumped into the armchair and tried her best to answer them.

“I was in Marian’s office, looking over some papers I had asked for. ‘That Guy’ goes by the name ‘Abraxas’ but that’s not his real name – as far as I know – and the woman he was with was probably Leda, his partner.”

“So why are you in a sex club?” Ginny asked nosily, her eyes narrowed.

Suppressing the urge to sigh once again, she summoned a book from her bag. “That isn’t all this place is. I’ve been studying here for a while – it’s so much easier to study when the people around you aren’t constantly asking questions, or trying to copy your homework.” Looking pointedly between Ron and Harry, she opened the book and started to read, letting the rest of their questions fall on deaf ears.

Several chapters later, there was a sharp knock on the door, followed by the piece of timber almost breaking off its hinges as it flew open. Lucius Malfoy, in all his blond, snobbish glory strode in and hauled Draco to his feet. Harry looked like he might say something, but wisely kept his mouth shut.

“Time to go, Draco,” Lucius drawled, looking Hermione up and down as he passed her, a smirk on his lips.

Hermione suppressed a shudder and buried her nose back in her book, hiding her glowing cheeks.

Just as the colour had left her face, Professor Snape entered, his hair and eyes returned to their usual piercing black. Upon recognising him, Hermione immediately looked away and strengthened the protective shield around her mind.

Professor Snape glared at each of the four Gryffindors in turn, his eyes finally landing on Hermione. When he couldn’t see past her surface thoughts, he hissed softly and said, “Miss Granger, Fabian would like to see you outside.”

“Yes S- Professor,” Hermione answered, keeping her head down as she hurried out.

She very nearly crashed into Fabian as she hurtled out the door, into the hallway. When she looked up, she was face-to-chest with the much taller wizard, her nose less than an inch from his button. Both stepped back and Hermione raised her eyes to meet his.

“Professor Snape said you wanted me?”

“Yes,” Fabian answered, “I told him I’d deal with you; he’s obliviating your friends.”

“Oh. I see.” Hermione looked down to her feet, suddenly finding the slightly scuffed school shoes rather interesting. “Do you know what’s going on? Why we’re here?”

A large hand came to rest on her shoulder, giving it a light squeeze. “Hogwarts seems to have been compromised; Tom Riddle has taken control of a student – a Ravenclaw from what we’ve heard – and is using them to fix an old vanishing cabinet in the Room of Requirement. The other is being repaired by young Bella at Malfoy Manor and they clearly intend to use it to bypass the anti-apparition wards – to what end, we are uncertain as of this moment.”

Hermione looked up at him, her eyes searching his. “You talk about them as if they’re just naughty children.”

Fabian smiled gently. “To me, that’s exactly what they are.”

“But a slap on the wrist isn’t going to stop them,” Hermione argued.

“Perhaps not, but they certainly lack the wisdom and… inspired thinking of wizards such as myself and the Dumbledores. Abe and I served together in two Muggle wars.” His lips curled into a smile that spoke of fond memories, but his eyes held an echo of pain, “I’m sure a smart young witch like yourself knows that many witches and wizards did what they could to help, on both sides. It’s not something that gets taught much in schools, unfortunately. We charmed our rifles so we couldn’t miss – our aim wasn’t much to speak of, I’m afraid. The bullets, though, they were portkeys – illegal, of course. Charmed to stun whoever they hit and take them to one of several safehouses around the world. Friends of ours offered their homes, you see, and cared for them, but stopped them leaving and re-joining the fighting. We sent them all home in the end, after wiping their memories, but the Ministry wasn’t so pleased. Oh, but we gave them the run-around back then.” Chuckling softly to himself, he shook his head, almost lost in the past.

Hermione closed her mouth, her teeth clicking against each other as she did so. After a moment of wide-eyed silence, she muttered, “Wow…”

Fabian’s tone was sombre when he spoke again, and his smile sad. “It sounds much better than it was, in truth. In the months it took us to perfect the charms, we had to shoot and kill men, just like the muggles had to. We knew what we had signed up for, but it was nothing like I thought it would be. I cannot speak for Abe, but I will not do it again.”

Hermione nodded, both turning to the door as it opened.

Professor Snape glanced between them. “Is she ready?”

“Yes,” Fabian answered, nudging Hermione into the room. “I’ll see you next time, Hermione.”

Snape turned to follow her in and growled. Fabian had charmed her skirt so that he could see right through it. He took a moment to appreciate the red handprints on her soft skin, along with her choice of underwear, then, not bothering with his wand, he silently flicked his fingers to dispel the charm and ushered the group through the floo, stepping through after them.

Professor McGonagall met the group outside the room of requirement, accompanied by Moody and a small team of Aurors, including the pink-haired Tonks.

“Severus,” McGonagall greeted, “Where is Mister Malfoy?”

“He will not be returning for the remainder of the term,” Professor Snape answered.

“Lucius has made his decision, then?”

“He has.”

Nodding, McGonagall turned to Tonks. The two conversed quietly for a while, then Tonks smiled at the four Gryffindors and motioned them to follow her. As they moved to do so, Professor Snape grabbed Hermione lightly by the arm, holding her back.

“I will return Miss Granger to her dormitory shortly; I would like to speak with her about an order she received on my behalf.”

“Very well,” McGonagall answered, “Don’t keep her too late.”

Professor Snape nodded and strode off towards the dungeons, dragging Hermione along by her upper arm, which he quickly released the second they had turned the corner.


	16. ~ Flash Duelling

Professor Snape glared at the girl from his chair behind the desk. She shuffled uncomfortably, clasping her hands in front of her. “Sir?”

“Mister Malfoy – Senior – requested bruise paste on your behalf. Did you receive it?”

“More or less,” Hermione answered, biting her lip uncertainly. “Mister Prince helped me apply it on Sunday, but I left it with him when I used it for his eye.”

“I see. Do you still need it?”

“No, Sir.”

“Very well. Am I to assume that the tidiness of my rooms is your doing?”

Hermione blushed, ducking her head in embarrassment. It had taken her hours to ensure everything was immaculate for his return. “Yes, Sir.”

 “Thank you.”

Hermione’s head snapped up, her eyes wide. _Did he just...?_

“Yes, Miss Granger, I am perfectly capable of showing gratitude,” Snape snapped irritably. “Now, I would like to take a moment to review your work – I believe I was only away long enough for you to receive the bezoars, correct?” He paused only long enough for Hermione to nod, and then continued. “Very well. In that case, I will review your work with the bezoars, and then I shall attempt to improve your duelling skills.”

“Improve my duelling skills? You mean you’re going to teach me proper duelling?” Hermione asked, a glimmer of excitement in her eyes.

“Attempt,” he replied, smirking. It could have been her imagination, but it looked as if mischief flitted through his eyes. A moment later, it was gone again.

She grinned, having to consciously refrain from hugging him. “Thank you, professor!”

“Don’t get too excited. Learning to duel formally and in battle will take many hours of hard work – and I will not go easy on you.”

“Yes, Sir,” Hermione answered, looking at her feet. Concentrating for a moment, she hid a satisfied smirk as she heard his breath catch, his eyes darting to her lower half, where her skirt briefly blinked out of view, flashing her daring, carmine underwear, before solidifying again.

“I suggest you use the healing room – across from the laboratory – to transfigure yourself something more suitable for duelling. Trousers, ideally.”

Nodding, Hermione waited to be dismissed, then led the way down the hall. She turned into the small healing room, the bed having been transfigured back to its original form, and waited for Professor Snape to enter the laboratory, before closing the door and beginning to change. Working from the bottom up, she transfigured her school shoes to sturdy boots, her skirt to close-fitting, grey leggings, and her school blouse into a white camisole that clung to her figure. As an afterthought, thanking Merlin under her breath that her breasts hadn’t grown as large as Lavender’s, she removed her bra, along with her tie. They were stuffed into the bottom of her school bag, so they wouldn’t be easily found.

Conjuring a mirror, Hermione assessed her appearance. The leggings contoured to the curves of her thighs, calves and hips, whilst the camisole fitted nicely over her breasts. Without a bra to cover them, her nipples pressed against the thin material, protruding visibly. She smiled. Marian would be proud.

Hermione emerged from the small room just as her professor stepped out of the lab. She almost walked into his chest, only managing to stop thanks to his reflexes, quick hands shooting out to capture her upper arms just before she could reach him.

“Do watch where you are walking, Miss Granger,” he admonished, though with less venom than usual.

“Sorry,” she muttered in reply, her cheeks colouring for what seemed like the hundredth time that day. Employing the training she had received from Marian, she did her best not to squirm as raven eyes raked over her body, taking in her outfit and the body beneath.

When he was done, he released her and looked back into her eyes, raising a single sardonic brow. “What are you wearing?”

Hermione mimicked his expression, trying to look innocent as she did so. “Clothes, Professor?”

Arching an eyebrow for a moment before shaking his head, the man turned on his heel and headed down the hall, deeper into the dungeons. Hermione followed, enjoying the silence as they walked.

When they reached the end of the seemingly endless corridor, Professor Snape tapped his wand against the brick wall and muttered something – too softly to be heard – and then stepped through the wall, barking for her to follow. She did, stepping out into a spacious courtyard, one which she had never seen before. She noticed as she looked around that the professor had stepped aside before she entered, ensuring she wouldn’t walk into him, and that he had removed his heavy robes, leaving just boots, fitted trousers and a crisp, white shirt. He directed her to place her book bag against the wall next to his robes. She did so, using a sticking charm to keep it upright, and casting several simple wards. It never hurt to be careful, just in case of stray spells.

 She turned to find him standing at the opposite side of the courtyard, his expression blank and wand trained on her. Taking it as a cue to prepare for combat, Hermione raised her wand and grounded herself firmly.

“I will do this once, and once only, Miss Granger. As this is your first time, I will allow you to cast first. After that, we will be using general combat rules; do whatever it takes to incapacitate your opponent – although preferably without anyone being killed. Do you understand?”

Hermione nodded. “Yes, Sir.” Without waiting for a reply, she took aim and cast a jelly legs jinx.

He stepped aside gracefully, a smirk crossing his face. The spell barely missed his knees, but he wasted no time in countering. Barely managing to jump away, Hermione almost toppled as she tried to stun him at the same time.

They continued back and forth until the both of them were sweating and panting. They had each made several circuits of the courtyard and bore numerous cuts and bruises. The moon was high overhead before they finished.

Hermione completed yet another circuit of the courtyard, which left her standing by her book bag. A spell zipped past her legs and she made to cast a counter curse when her ankles were suddenly seized, her feet pulled out from under her so quickly that she feared she would hit her head on the ground. Instead, she found herself hanging upside-down, Professor Snape’s robes wrapped securely around her ankles. Frustrated, but not yet incapacitated, Hermione sent a curse whizzing towards his head. He ducked and, with an elaborate flourish of his wand, conjured invisible bonds that tethered her hands to the floor beneath her. For all intents and purposes, she could be on a rack to be stretched.  Smirking, he disarmed her and summoned the wand, slipping it into his pocket. His approach was slow, almost predatory. Like a hunting animal, he circled her, as if searching for weaknesses.

“And now, Miss Granger, you see why I suggested a change of clothing.”

Casting a charm around her head to keep her blood flowing normally, he left her hanging to inspect the damage to the courtyard, setting about repairing spell damage – burns and breaks to the brickwork – and patching up the wards.

Without her hands or arms to hold the camisole in place, the flimsy fabric began to slip, exposing her tummy and continuing to slide towards her breasts. It was as the fabric that had bunched beneath her breasts began slipping again that she called out.

“Professor! Professor, let me down! Professor Snape!”

Glancing inattentively at her, he chuckled and continued on with his work. “This is your punishment, Miss Granger. As in any real duel, the loser must suffer.”

“No, I really think you should at least turn me back up the right way, Sir.”

“Not a chance – and the longer you argue, the longer you will remain as you are.”

Hermione rolled her eyes. “Suit yourself.” At least this would provide anonther opportunity to tease him as Marian had asked – humiliating as it would be.

Hermione watched as the professor continued to inspect the courtyard for a further ten minutes, her camisole now useless as it began to slide over her head and down her arms. She was well aware that it was her own fault that she had removed her bra, but refused to show her embarrassment as the cool night air brushed her exposed breasts and brought her nipples to tight peaks. _He has seen it all before, Hermione. There’s no need to be self-conscious._

Having taken his time and studiously ignored the young witch, Severus gave the courtyard a last glance, and then turned to look at her.

His mouth dropped open as his gaze fell upon her exposed breasts, hanging just below the level of his eyesSuddenly, he wished he had kept his robes on as his trousers tightened. Glancing down at her face, he found himself caught under her fiery glare.

“Are you going to let me down now, _Professor_?” she asked through clenched teeth, suppressing a smirk. When he didn’t reply, she prodded, “What, don’t the whores of Knockturn show you their tits, or are mine just better?”

Growling, Severus flicked his wand and she tumbled to the ground. With her arms free, she wrenched her camisole down and continued to scowl at him as he retrieved his robes.

“You might have made your situation known sooner,” he snarled.

“I tried and you ignored me,” Hermione countered.

“Perhaps you should have chosen more appropriate clothing.”

“Perhaps you should have listened when I asked you to turn me upright!” she shouted, her face turning red. “Then you wouldn’t have gotten an eyeful!” With a final heated glare, Hermione snatched her wand from his pocket, turned and stormed away, summoning her book bag as she walked towards the false wall.

Unfortunately, the passage had been locked for their duelling and she fairly bounced off the wall as she tried to walk through it. Turning, she found Professor Snape smirking at her, his eyebrow raised. It was probably a good thing that her anger was almost entirely false, else he might have found himself with a broken nose.

“Well? Are you going to let me through or not?” she huffed, folding her arms across her chest.

Silently, the man strode across to where she stood, not giving her time to move as he pressed her into the wall, reaching over her head to open the passage. Frustratingly, and despite their proximity, Hermione still didn’t hear the password as he hissed it. It was a minor thing, but it was annoying to be so close to knowledge – any knowledge – and not be able to grasp it.

The passage had opened, but he still didn’t move; instead, he chose to place a hand lightly on her belly and nudge her backwards. Eyes wide, she stumbled back into the corridor, her hand striking out to catch herself on the wall. Having found her balance, she hurried down the passageway, stopping in the little healing room to restore her clothing. Realising that her school blouse was almost easier to see through than the camisole it had been, Hermione fished in her book bag for her tie and bra. Putting them back on, she made sure she was presentable and then headed on to Professor Snape’s office.

Dumbledore was seated across the desk from the former Potions Master, whose mind seemed to be elsewhere – somewhere rather disgusting from the grimace twisting his lips. He was probably trying to calm himself after their ‘incident’.

Dumbledore’s eyes twinkled as he spotted her and a gentle smile pulled at his lips. “Ah, Miss Granger! Severus said you had left.”

“Sorry, Sir. I was restoring my clothes – I’d transfigured them into something more suitable for duelling and thought it best I change them back before wandering through the school.”

Professor Snape snorted and, catching his eye, Hermione heard him thinking, _“So that little tit-show is what she calls ‘suitable’?”_ before his occlumency walls slammed into place and he glared angrily at her.

She returned his glare with a mock one, before plastering an innocent smile on her face as Dumbledore noticed the dark man’s glare and followed it to see what could possibly be the cause.

Shaking his head, the old man stood, gestured to the door and said, “Come, Miss Granger. We had best get you back to your tower.”

Hermione took that as her cue, walking across to the door and stepping through it into the cool dungeon corridor. Dumbledore made to follow her, pausing in the doorway with a mischievous glint in his eye and a smirk on his lips. “Your office looks fantastic, Severus – the cleanest I’ve ever seen it.” Then, giving Hermione a conspiratorial look, he ushered her along and closed the door before they found themselves on the receiving end of one of Snape’s famous home-brewed hexes.

As they reached the bottom of the moving staircases, they could hear shuffling coming towards them. Looking down, Hermione spotted Mrs Norris running directly for her. She groaned.

“Students out of bed! Students out of bed! Stu- Oh, it’s you, Professor.”

Dumbledore chuckled. “Never mind, Argus. I am escorting Miss Granger up to bed. However, I must thank you for your unceasing vigilance.”

Filch muttered something indiscernible, as he bowed and skulked away into the darkness.

Shaking his head, Dumbledore urged her onward, freezing the staircases to ease their passage. In no time at all, they had reached the portrait of the Fat Lady. Dumbledore gave the password, then followed her in.

Tonks was waiting just inside the door for her and smiled, pulling her into a tight hug. “Hermione! How’ve you been?”

Hermione returned the older woman’s hug and answered, “I’ve been good. How about you? And Remus?”

“I’m well. Remus is preparing for the full moon – it’s due in a few days’ time.”

Hermione gave a solemn nod, full of empathy for the pair. “I know. If Professor Snape had been away much longer, I would have had to finish the wolfsbane potion for him.”

“So it’s true that you’re brewing for the school now? Snape not got enough time on his hands, what with his amazing love life and all?” she joked, causing them both to snicker.

“Clearly not,” Hermione giggled, “I don’t think his love life is the cause, though.”

Tonks shrugged. “Would we want to know?”

“Probably not,” Hermione answered.

“Miss Granger,” Dumbledore interjected, “I dare say Severus will want to see you tomorrow to arrange your next session.”

“Yes, Sir.”

Nodding, Dumbledore turned and left through the portrait hole.

“Session? Brewing session?” Tonks asked, looking thoroughly confused.

“No,” Hermione replied, “He’s teaching me to duel – just in case something happens – in return for brewing.”

“Ohhh, I see. Learn anything yet?”

“Only that he’s a bastard who leaves you hanging upside-down when he wins and ignores your requests to be turned upright.”

“Well we knew the bastard bit. Why’d he leave you hanging?”

“We were duelling to incapacitate. He’d left his robes in a pile and used them to snag my ankles, then dangled me in the air with my arms tied above my head and my shirt falling down.”

Tonks laughed. “Well it could’ve been worse – it could’ve been Slughorn trying to perv!”

Hermione shuddered at the thought. “Never suggest that, ever again. I’m not going to be able to eat for the next month.” She placed her hand on her stomach and pretended to retch.

The older woman shook her head. “Alright, off to bed with you.”

Nodding, Hermione headed for her dorm. She quietly collected her pyjamas and went to shower.

Clean, dry and dressed, she slipped into bed and drew the curtains. She left a quick note for Marian about the events of the evening, then stowed the journal and laid down to sleep.


	17. ~ Arranged

“Pssst, Hermione.”

Hermione looked up from her Charms essay and rolled her eyes at the green-eyed boy. “What, Harry?”

Harry had the sense to look somewhat abashed, but ploughed on anyway. “Where’d you go with Snape last night?”

“ _Professor_ Snape – and if you wait another ten minutes, I’ll tell you at lunch,” Hermione replied. She gave a pointed look at the half-empty scroll in front of him, and then returned to her own, hoping that Harry would do the same.

After a few minutes, Flitwick began collecting completed scrolls, checking them over quickly to ensure they were of satisfactory length and named clearly. Those who were done were dismissed, and Hermione headed to the Great Hall to start her lunch and wait for the boys.

She had just filled a bowl with fruit salad and was about to tuck in when a shadow fell over her. When it didn’t move, she placed her fork down and turned, her eyes falling upon black robes, before meeting equally black eyes. She tried to keep her expression steady and demure, but it was impossible to stop the corners of her lips curling upwards. “Yes, Professor?”

“Miss Granger.” He glared at her cheeky smirk. “You are to come to my office tonight. Professor Dumbledore has expressed a desire that I teach you how to make the Wolfsbane potion. There is no guarantee that either of us shall be available to do so next month.”

“I have Astronomy, Sir.”

“Then come when you finish. Nothing can be done until midnight anyway.”

“Can’t I come closer to midnight?”

The professor growled. “No. I would like to discuss other matters beforehand. You will come immediately after Astronomy.”

“Alright, sir. Immediately after Astronomy,” Hermione sighed, taking a subtle pleasure from the way his lips tightened at the repetition of his words. Almost as if he wasn’t sure whether she was mocking him.

“See that you do.”

Hermione watched as he strode away, headed for the teachers’ table. He seated himself next to McGonagall, who wore an amused expression as she no-doubt prodded him about his recent conversation. He only glared at his plate.

“Hey, 'Mione,” Harry called, hurrying to her side. “So, where’d you go last night with Sn- Professor Snape.”

Hermione smiled as he corrected himself, waited for Ron to pay attention, and started to explain in a conspiratorial whisper, “You know that I’ve been doing some extra credit?” They gave simultaneous, bemused nods, and she continued, “Well, that extra credit is brewing potions for the infirmary and helping to look after the ingredient stores. Professor Snape went away for a few days and wanted to check my work as soon as he got back. In exchange for my assistance, I get advanced potions and duelling lessons. So, last night, he gave me my first duelling lesson. It ended in me losing and being dangled upside-down for about twenty minutes whilst he fixed everything we broke.”

When she had finished, the boys’ jaws were practically on the floor, even though she had omitted the part about her breasts ending up in plain view – she thought it would send them over the edge.

“You’re getting duelling lessons with _Snape_?” Ron asked, his disgust evident in his tone.

“Yes, Ronald – and _Professor_ Snape is a much better teacher than any we’ve had so far, except perhaps Professor Lupin”

“But it’s Snape! He’s a greasy git! Why would he help you outside classes?” Ron argued.

Hermione glared at the boy. “Well for starters, he’s actually not a horrible person when he’s doing something he enjoys with someone who appreciates the art – that would be me, by the way – and secondly, we made an agreement that I would help him and he would tutor me in return and, surprise, surprise, he’s a man of his word!”

“Who’s a man of his word?”

“Never mind, Gin. I’m just trying to explain to these two that Professor Snape is worth listening to – he’s actually a rather brilliant duellist.”

“Oohhhh.” Ginny nodded her agreement. “I mean, it’s not like taking down Lockhart was any kind of challenge, but dad says he’s one of the best in the Order.”

Harry seemed to perk up at this. “D’you think he’d give us lessons?”

“Doubt it,” Ginny shrugged, "He doesn’t like any of us and there’s no way he’d do it for free.”

Hermione nodded. “Exactly. The only reason I’m getting lessons is because I’m helping him out with brewing – and Dumbledore made him agree to it.”

“You’re getting lessons with Snape?” Ginny blinked, looking at Harry and Ron as if she expected them to shout ‘surprise!’. “What’s he like?”

Hermione shrugged. “Last night was my first lesson, and I ended up dangling by my ankles while he fixed the damage we’d done to the courtyard.”

Ginny giggled. “You weren’t wearing your uniform, were you?”

“No – fortunately.” Hermione shook her head. “I’d changed into something a bit more suitable, though I’m going to have to figure out how to stop my shirt from slipping if I’m to be strung up like that again. Speaking of, could I borrow the invisibility cloak tonight, Harry? I’ve got another lesson after astronomy and I’ll need the cloak to get back when we’re done.”

Harry shrugged. “Sure. Just come and get it before we leave.”

Hermione smiled, pulling him into a one-armed hug. “Thanks, Harry.”

Harry grinned, wrapping his arm around her waist in return.

“So, what happened to Malfoy last night?” Ginny asked, her voice a hushed whisper.

Hermione glanced around them. Nobody was paying them any attention. “I’m not sure, but I don’t think that family is everything they seem.”

Harry leaned closer, his voice perhaps a bit too eager. “How do you mean?”

Hermione glanced about once again, before beckoning the group close and whispering, “I run ’round the lake every morning and Lucius Malfoy caught me spying once, when I saw someone swimming. The bastard distracted me until whoever it was had gone, but he was quite civil – nice, even.” She tried to stop her ears from burning whilst she recalled just how he had distracted her. The boys didn’t need to know that, either.

“You mean he didn’t hex you?” Ginny’s eyes were wide, her mouth agape.

Hermione nodded.

“You sure it was really him?”

“Yes, Ronald. Lucius Malfoy isn’t exactly someone easily mistaken.”

“What about Polyjuice?”

“There isn’t a man in the universe so sincerely pompous as Lucius Malfoy,” Hermione answered.

“Is that an insult, or a compliment, Miss Granger?”

Hermione turned, suppressing a smile as she looked up at the blond man. Her blush wasn’t so easily controlled. The entire hall had fallen silent.

“What’re you doing here?” Ron spat, his eyes narrowed on the wizard before them.

Lucius raised an eyebrow at the boy. “You do realise that I am a governor of this school, yes? I could be here on any number of errands.” With no response forthcoming, Lucius sighed. “As it happens, Miss Granger, I am here for a meeting with the Headmaster and I believe you could be of some assistance in the matter, so I would like you to accompany me to his office.”

Hermione looked to her friends, hoping for advice. “Umm… I suppose I can come, but I will have to get to class soon.”

“Shall I collect you once I’ve spoken to Severus?”

“Okay,” Hermione nodded.

The group watched as he strode away, seeming to glide but for the tap of his cane on the stone floor.

“What do you think that’s all about?”

“Why would you go with him?”

“Are you mad?”

Hermione rolled her eyes as she was bombarded with questions. “He’s probably here about Draco. I’m going to go with him because, as I have already told you, I don’t think he’s as bad as he likes to make out and no, Ronald, I am not mad.”

With that, Hermione stood and hurried out of the Great Hall. Lucius, who had been talking with Professor Snape, noted her speedy exit and finished his conversation, before following at a more leisurely pace.

He found her loitering outside the doors, far enough from them that she could duck into an alcove and hide should anyone come out, but close enough to see who was coming. It was in the alcove that he cornered her, using his body to block her in without touching her. Hermione could only stare up at him, eyes like saucers.

“Severus tells me you gave him quite the eyeful last night,” He purred, “What happened to your underthings?”

Hermione felt a shiver race up her spine. “I- I took them off,” She whispered.

“And why would you do that, knowing that you would be duelling your professor? You wouldn’t be teasing the poor man, would you?”

Hermione raised her chin indignantly. “Never.” The smirk playing around her lips gave her away and she couldn’t help it turning into a full-blown grin as she moved closer to him, forcing him to move back.

“So you know.” It was less a question than a statement of fact.

Hermione nodded. “But don’t tell him. Let me have my fun.”

“What a naughty little witch. He’d spank you if he knew.”

“He can’t touch me.”

“Oh?” Lucius raised a brow, smirking. “Can’t he?”

“Marian told me you both made an oath, neither of you can touch me until the Yule Ball at Fiendfyres’.”

The expression fell from his face faster than a Snitch could disappear on a Quidditch pitch. “Did she inform you of the consequences?”

Hermione shook her head. “No, she didn’t.”

Lucius frowned. “Each and every time we intentionally touch you, we will suffer a week of impotence, beginning the moment we fasten the collar around your neck. This affects you too, my Little Lioness.”

“Not as much as it will you,” she answered, grinning cheekily, swaying towards him once again, her grin broadening as he pulled back yet further.

With a soft growl, he ground out, “Come. We have an appointment with the Headmaster.” With that, he turned on his heel and set off in the direction of the Headmaster’s office.

Fixing a blank expression on her face, Hermione followed, jogging to catch up, then doing her best to keep in step with the much taller man.

Professor Dumbledore was waiting beside the gargoyle when the pair arrived, his gaze fixed on something far off in the distance. Lucius cleared his throat, drawing the older man’s attention to them.

“Headmaster?”

Dumbledore smiled, his eyes clearing as he focussed on his guests, giving them each a nod in turn, “Lucius, Miss Granger. Do please come in.” Turning, he muttered the password and the group made their way into his office. Gesturing to the two chairs before his desk, he waited for his guests to sit before taking his own place.

“Might I assume that this meeting is to do with young Draco?”

“That would be correct,” Lucius answered.

Hermione glanced at Lucius, her eyebrow raised. “What do I have to do with Draco?”

Ignoring her, Lucius inhaled deeply and powered on. “As you well know, my family have long since fallen out of favour with the Dark Lord. As a result, the ‘rose coloured spectacles’ – as they say – have come off and I find myself less and less enamoured with his ideals and, indeed, coming to the conclusion that he is a madman. To be perfectly frank, were it not for my father, Severus and I would never have had anything to do with the lunatic. Now, I find myself concerned for the welfare of my family and wishing to protect, at the very least, my son. I am willing to remain within the Dark Lord’s ranks and assist Severus in his work – in exchange for your protection of my son. Draco has not yet taken the mark and I wish to keep it that way.”

The room fell silent for several long minutes as Dumbledore pondered Lucius’ request.

Hermione’s mind was racing. She had forgotten entirely that the man had a wife – a family! Her brow screwed together in confusion. _Why is he collaring me – having anything to do with me – if he’s married?_

Finally, Dumbledore fixed his twinkling, blue gaze on her, then Lucius and nodded. “I will have him inducted into the Order. What of Narcissa?”

“She hates me.” Lucius sighed, staring at the plain, gold wedding band on his finger. Seeming to come back to himself, he glanced briefly at Hermione and shrugged. “Arranged marriages rarely end well – especially when the father of the groom requests the sister of the bride become the bride.”

Dumbledore chuckled. “I do believe Druella had kittens over _that_ particular decision.”

“Narcissa was blonde and pale. She was the most likely of the Black sisters to produce an heir worthy of the Malfoy name – or so father used to say.” Lucius rolled his eyes, gesturing vaguely and dismissively with a hand. “We have been emotionally – and physically – estranged for many years now.”

 _Well that answers that question,_ Hermione thought, chewing her lip. “Professor, Mister Malfoy?”

Dumbledore turned his attention to the girl, pushing his half-moon spectacles back up his nose. “What is it, Miss Granger?”

“Yes, pray tell, Miss Granger,” Lucius purred, turning to face her fully.

Hermione scowled at him, shifting uncomfortably in her seat as memories of the previous evening surfaced, bringing a blush to her cheeks. She stamped them down. “What, exactly, do I have to do with this?”

“Who but you, Miss Granger, would happen to share so many classes with my son?” Lucius replied, “He will not be able to return to school until the new term, and you are the best candidate to supply him notes.”

Hermione raised her eyebrow, folding her arms across her chest. Lucius’ eyes darted downward for a split second, before returning to her own. “You expect me to take notes for Draco? The boy who has been nothing but cruel and insulting to me and my friends for the past five years? You do realise that it was me who slapped him in our third year?”

Lucius’ eyes widened, almost imperceptibly, “I was told it was an unfortunate incident with a plant in Herbology that caused the mark.”

The girl smirked at him. “I can’t say I’m surprised he didn’t tell his father that a ‘filthy little mudblood’ got the better of him.”

Dumbledore coughed. Hermione was convinced it was to hide a chuckle. “That’s quite enough of that, you two. Miss Granger, I would greatly appreciate if you could make copies of your notes each day and take them to Professor Snape to be passed on to young Mister Malfoy. As for you, Lucius, I think it best that you tread carefully. I will have Severus inform Riddle of Draco’s disappearance and you must react suitably.”

Grinding her teeth, very slightly, Hermione nodded at the same time as Lucius.

“I believe I can manage that,” Lucius said, standing. “Thank you for your assistance, Headmaster. Miss Granger.”

The Headmaster stood, Hermione following his lead, and smiled, his face taking on a wistful expression. “I will write you a note to excuse your lateness, Miss Granger. If you would be so kind as to escort Mister Malfoy from the school grounds?”

“Yes Sir, thank you,” Hermione answered. She waited for him to scribble a note onto a scrap of parchment, taking it with a tiny nod of acknowledgement, before turning on her heel and heading for the door. She could hear the tap of Lucius’ cane on the floor as he followed her, his eyes burning into the back of her head. He reached over her as they came to the door, careful not to touch her as he opened it for her.

The pair hurried through the castle, avoiding the main corridors in favour of the narrower, empty passageways that would allow them to leave unseen. Once they had exited the castle, they slowed their pace, wandering across the grounds side-by-side, close but never touching.

Hermione was the first to speak, taking a deep breath before delving into conversation. “Does your wife know what you do?”

Lucius looked at her, pale brows raised in surprise. “What I do?”

Hermione shrugged. “Fiendfyres’, Professor Snape, _me_ …”

Lucius opened his mouth for a moment, as if to speak. He closed it before a word passed his lips, a pensive look crossing his features as he gathered his thoughts. “No, she does not know about Fiendfyre’s, nor the true extent of my relationship with Severus. She hasn’t an inkling that we are anything more than close friends. As for you, Little Lioness… well, I don’t know what you might be trying to insinuate. I am a governor of this school, and I couldn’t possibly be involved with a student,” he said, almost reproachfully, “But even if I were to do so, it is of no concern to Narcissa. She knows I take my pleasure elsewhere, and she does the same herself. Our relationship, if it could still be called that, has not been intimate since Draco was born. The pregnancy was hard on her, and regardless, we only married to produce an heir for the Malfoy line.”

Hermione nodded. “You subbed for him last night. Does that make you a switch?”

“No,” His answer was immediate, sharp. “I have only ever submitted to Severus and Fabian. It is an act of trust, which I admire you greatly for giving so willingly – to me, of all people.”

Hermione blushed. “I was sceptical at first, but I’ve found I quite enjoy letting someone else take control for a while. It comes quite naturally, especially with the both of you.”

Lucius smiled openly at this. “You realise your collaring will be a massive event? Neither Severus, nor myself have collared anyone in quite some time and the both of us collaring one witch will be quite the spectacle.”

Hermione nodded. “So Marian said. I’ve heard a few times now how highly sought after you two are.”

“Yes, we have earned ourselves quite the reputation over the years.” Lucius smirked at that, glancing behind them at the headmaster’s window. He hummed thoughtfully. “The headmaster appears to have grown bored with us already.”

“Good.” Hermione grinned. “That means I can do this-” looking around them, she dropped back, making Lucius turn to see what she was doing. Conjuring a bucket of water, she waited until he was looking at her, then dumped it on his head, before taking off across the grounds, giggling as he growled and gave chase. She sprinted, leading him to the gates and dodging hexes as he threw them half-heartedly after her.

When she reached the gates, she slipped out and waited for Lucius to follow, before darting back inside and closing the gate in his face. She bit her lip, grinned and, reaching for the hem of her shirt, pulled it up to reveal her pale blue, lace bralette, which did nothing to hide her chill-hardened nipples. Lucius groaned, before tearing his eyes from her breasts and stepping away.

“You will pay for this, Witch.”

Hermione grinned, pleased with herself. “Hmm, I’ve no doubt I will. I can’t wait … Sir.” The title rolled from her lips with a purr as her breasts pressed against the wrought iron of the gate.

He growled, once again dragging his gaze from the supple mounds to meet her eyes. “Minx.”

“Master.”

Lucius’ expression softened into one akin to fondness.

With a soft _‘pop’_ he was gone.


	18. ~ His Own Medicine

Hermione grinned, doing her best not to giggle as she knocked firmly on the slab of oak that stood between her and the professor’s office. The door opened moments later and the girl slipped inside, undetected. She watched as an expression of confusion, and then suspicion, formed on her mentor’s face, his eyes darting warily about the room. Slowly, he reached for his wand, shifting almost imperceptibly as he removed his weight from his chair, ready to defend himself at any moment. Her feet bare, Hermione tip-toed, giving him a wide berth as she made her way behind him.

Once in his blind spot, she raised her wand, cast aside the Invisibility Cloak and cast a series of spells - “Stupefy! Incarcerous! Levicorpus!” Plucking the ebony wand from the professor’s grip, Hermione gave him the best innocent look she could muster. “You may want to tell me about that charm you use to maintain normal blood flow, Professor.”

Severus growled, eyes narrowing dangerously at the girl. Their positions had reversed this time; he was the one hanging by his ankles, yet still he found himself eye-level with her breasts. “Wench.”

Hermione raised an eyebrow. “Fine. Don’t tell me.”

His bored look, practiced to perfection, was unwavering. With a sigh, he rolled his eyes. “Touch your wand to my temple and say ‘ _temperet natura fluxus_ *’ If you are skilled enough, it can be performed non-verbally. Satisfied?”

Hermione nodded. Touching her wand to his temple, she concentrated on the desired effect of the spell and commanded, _temperet natura fluxus_. She felt the tell-tale tingle of magic and watched as the redness in his face receded, leaving his cheeks slightly flushed with anger.

“Release me, Miss Granger,” he growled dangerously.

“You didn’t release me, Professor,” Hermione replied evenly. “You left me to hang in a position where I was unable to prevent myself from being exposed to you, _my mentor_ , despite the fact that I tried my best to warn you.”

Severus muttered something under his breath.

“What was that, Sir?”

His eyes narrowed yet further as he ground out, “Impertinent chit.”

“Grumpy bastard.”

“Release me.”

“After you apologise.”

Looking rather pained, the dour professor glared at her some more, before softening his expression, taking a deep breath and speaking to her breasts. “I apologise.”

“You’re going to have to do better than that, Sir. Try looking me in the eyes and addressing the issue that caused this unfortunate situation.”

Closing his eyes and jerking his bound hand as if to pinch the bridge of his nose, Severus sighed. After gathering himself for a moment, he opened his eyes once again and met her steely gaze. “Miss Granger, I sincerely apologise for the events of last night in which you were indecently exposed to me as a result of my own negligence.”

Hermione’s expression lightened at his surprisingly sincere apology and she carefully released him, returning him lightly to his feet. “That was wonderful, Professor. I could almost kiss you.”

“Refrain,” came his only reply, signature scowl firmly back in place.

Hermione snickered. “What, scared you’ll catch something?”

“Much worse, Miss Granger. Much, much worse,” he sighed, making his way back to his chair.

Hermione suppressed a smirk, knowing now that to kiss her would mean _much_ worse for him.

His eyes narrowed at her non-response, but he gestured to the chair across from him and waited for her to seat herself before proceeding. As you are aware, Miss Granger, you are here at Dumbledore’s request to learn how to brew the Wolfsbane potion. I have a batch that is nearing completion, thus your presence here tonight. Following the full moon, I will show you the entire process. Tonight, however, we shall handle the final stage, which is without doubt the most delicate. If you must make notes, you may do so, but I will expect your full attention. Do you understand?”

Hermione nodded eagerly, her eyes wide. “Yes, Sir. Thank you.”

Severus shook his head at her enthusiasm. “Insatiable as ever, I see.” Hermione’s lips twitched briefly into a smirk. “As for the matter I had intended to discuss while we wait for the potion to be ready, I believe we may have dealt with the bulk of the issue already. However, I would like to add that I recommend you wear something more suitable when we duel next. In fact, I have had Miss Tonks retrieve suitable clothing from Diagon Alley.”

Sliding back to open the hidden drawer in front of him, Hermione watched as he reached into the compartment and withdrew a plain, black box tied with a simple, white ribbon. Placing the package on his desk, he slid it across to the girl, gesturing that she should take it. As Hermione retrieved the parcel, she looked up at the wizard sitting opposite her, shock evident in her expression.

“I am told that these clothes are designed for both duelling and brewing. The fabric is charmed to withstand minor jinxes – it will lessen the impact of more severe hexes, but, understandably, is not completely impervious to damage. The material is able to knit itself together to repair minor damages and will do so when not being worn – There is also a charm upon it to prevent it from getting dirty.” He stopped to smirk at her gobsmacked expression, before ordering, “Go – change in the healing room and meet me in the laboratory.”

Nodding, Hermione stood and darted down the passageway, into the healing room. Closing the door, she laid the box on the cot, untied the ribbon, removed the lid and folded back the paper that hid the contents. The soft, shimmering material it revealed positively thrummed with magic.

Her mouth dropped open in wonder; it must have been nigh on impossible to find items of such quality in such a short amount of time. The expense must have been extortionate.

Flicking her wand and casting a silent charm, Hermione’s uniform melted from her body and reappeared on a shelf by the door, neatly folding itself into a pile. She picked up the first item from the bed and realised even her underwear was now redundant. Hesitantly, she removed her bra and pulled on the one she had been given by Professor Snape. It was made of a firm-yet-flexible material, dyed inky black, and had straps crossing between her shoulder blades and holding her breasts gently, to keep them from bouncing and moving whilst maintaining a temptingly ample bust. Next came a pair of high-waisted briefs made of the same material, although with a touch more elastic in their design. The band sat just below her navel, and, like the bra, was light and comfortable, barely noticeable and yet – somewhat comfortingly – still discernibly there. She found herself jumping and stretching to test the material and found that, by some magic, it was comfortable regardless of the position she took – it never even rode up to leave her with a wedgie. Having made herself somewhat warm, she discovered yet another useful charm woven into her newly gifted underthings, this one to keep her temperature steady, preventing her from becoming too hot or cold in her most sensitive areas. It would, she decided, do wonders for her concentration – whatever she was concentrating on.

A smile upon her lips, Hermione retrieved the next layer of clothing. It appeared to be nothing more than an extension of the bra – long, fitted sleeves that tapered across the back of her hands, each connected to a contrasting silver ring that fitted around the middle finger. She marvelled over the design as she pulled it on, realising quickly that the rings served as an anchor to keep the sleeves in place. The bodice only came to the bottom of the bra, clasping at the front, whilst the band around the bottom seemed to align itself with that of the bra. The fabric, matching the colour of the rest of the outfit, was extremely light and yet entirely opaque. Her sleeves weighed as much as a pair of stockings, fitted just as snugly, and yet showed nothing of the creamy flesh beneath.

Hermione could only marvel at the ingenuity – and she had only made it half way through the package!

The next item on the pile stood out from the rest. It was made of a deep, vibrant scarlet to contrast with the pure black, and the quilted design distinctly reminded her of Professor Lockhart’s duelling attire. Perhaps it was even the same designer. Unfolding the beautiful material, Hermione found that it resembled both a vest and bodysuit, with a high collar. Now the long-sleeved wrap made sense, as this particular item lacked sleeves of its own, coming to an end abruptly atop her shoulders. The collar came to just below her jaw, shaped so that she could turn her head easily, whilst giving some protection to her vulnerable neck. Practicality asides, the vest featured a short, narrow ‘V’ that ended barely below the hollow of her throat. As she had now come to expect, the size was perfect, fitting snugly against her curves, securing by some magic at the crotch. Inspecting herself in a summoned mirror, she saw that it was pressed firmly against her mons, following the natural lines of her anatomy. She noticed it was heavier than the rest of her attire, and yet far from a burden. It had light padding and, she soon found, had been designed once again not to shift or ride up whilst maintaining her freedom of movement.

Next was a simple pair of fitted black slacks that followed the shape of her legs, covering her to the ankle. She aligned them with the waist band of the briefs, decided they were on par with the vest with regards to weight, and noticed that they held themselves in place as if she were wearing suspenders. She was almost disappointed to see something so mundane as a muggle zip and buttons to hold them closed.

Hermione had to wonder just how the Professor had acquired such perfectly fitted clothing. Her mind leapt to the most logical conclusion in a matter of moments – he was close to Marian, and the Madame had her measurements.

Pushing the thought aside, Hermione picked up the last item, holding it up and shaking it out. Bright brown eyes opened wide. She held a hooded cloak that looked like it had been cut from the fabric of a starless night, and felt like the softest velvet. The trim was the same scarlet as her vest, satin-soft. Marvelling at the sheer beauty of the item, and the apparent weightlessness, given its size, she wrapped it about her shoulders. The clasp tied itself, _almost as if by magic_ , she thought wryly, before lifting the hood over her hair, framing her face. Turning to the mirror, she failed to stifle her gasp – with the hood up, her entire body appeared to have vanished, replaced by a deep, impenetrable darkness. She slid the hood back, and her face and body appeared once more, although she couldn’t pinpoint the moment that it happened. One moment the cloak floated and moved of its own accord, and faster than she could process, she was there as if she always had been. Curious, she repeated the motion a few times, and with the hood over her head, reached out into the room, seeing a pale hand appear from the darkness of the cloak once it reached the boundary of the charm.

Throwing back the hood once again, Hermione padded across the hall to the lab. Feet still bare, she stopped in the doorway and knocked on the frame. “Professor?”

The man had his back to her, watching a simmering cauldron. At her knock, he turned, taking in the sight of the witch before him. She looked both dangerous and beautiful in her new attire, a force to be reckoned with – Lucius had done well. “Yes, Miss Granger?”

Hermione blushed under his scrutinising stare. “Thank you for the clothes.”

“You are welcome.” A tiny smile tugged at his lips, before disappearing. “You have no shoes.”

The girl ducked her head in embarrassment. “No, Sir. I came down without them so you wouldn’t hear me sneaking up on you.”

“I see,” he rumbled, eyes narrowing. “Never mind. Miss Tonks also collected some footwear for you.” So saying, he gestured to a package on one of the otherwise empty work benches.

Smiling gratefully, Hermione retrieved the package and sat down on a stool. She carefully removed the boots from the package and inspected them. Stuffed inside one was a pair of socks, rolled into a tight ball. She pulled the incredibly soft black material onto her feet. The boots were tightly laced with a discrete zipper at the side and she pulled them on, her eyes flicking across to the Dragonhide boots on her professor’s feet. It was with dawning realisation that she discovered her new boots to be made of the same material – S _eriously! What is it with men and dragonhide?!_ Rolling her eyes at his lack of originality, she zipped up the boots.

Smiling, she stood, bounced a few times to assess the comfort of the shoes, and then joined her professor at the cauldron. Resisting the urge to hug him, she instead watched him, observing his features as they scrunched in concentration. He would never be the embodiment of male beauty, yet she found herself attracted to his sharp features, despite the overlarge nose and lank, greasy hair.

“Why are you grinning at me, Miss Granger,” he growled half-heartedly, an almost teasing light in his eyes.

Hermione blushed; she hadn’t realised she was grinning. “S-sorry, S-sir,” she stammered.

Shaking his head, he returned his focus to the cauldron before them. “Any moment now, the mixture will begin to transition from its current shade of yellow to a pale lilac. To complete the potion, we must add three ounces of powdered Wolfsbane root, stir counter-clockwise twelve times with a pure gold stirring rod and cast five repetitions of ‘ _Sensum Suscipiat**_ ’ whilst stirring nine times clockwise with a tempered glass stirring rod. I will demonstrate tonight and you will attempt to imitate on the next batch.”

Hermione nodded watching with wide eyes as the potion began to change colour. Professor Snape picked up a small dish with his left hand, carefully added the pale powder and immediately began stirring with his right. His eyes were trained intently on the contents of the cauldron, he placed the dish on the counter, keeping it a safe distance from the flame, before picking up the wand laid next to it – the wand appeared to be one he used specifically for brewing, as she hadn’t seen it before and it was distinct from his usual wand. Completing the first round of stirring, he quickly removed the gold stirring rod from the cauldron, placing it on the counter, before picking up the glass rod and beginning to stir clockwise, whilst waving the wand in a counter-clockwise circular motion and chanting, “ _Sensum_ _Suscipiat_ , _Sensum_ _Suscipiat_ , _Sensum_ _Suscipiat…_ ” his low baritone voice flowing around her – and the potion – like the soft, swirling current of a lake.

The potion had turned a soft lilac colour and as he completed the clockwise stirring, finishing his chant at the same moment, the contents of the cauldron became a steely blue, an azure mist rolling off it. Carefully retrieving a crystal phial the size of a goblet with a short neck from the counter behind him, the Professor began bottling the potion using a glass ladle. He filled each phial to the base of the neck before stoppering it, tying a label around the neck and placing it in a crate. The crate, a sturdy thing made of thick wooden planks, was lined with rather recent-looking copies of the _Daily Prophet_. The box already contained two layers of phials, all identical to those being added and, as the next layer was completed, Professor Snape picked up a sack filled with curled wooden shavings and tipped some inside. He spread it about with his hand, ensuring that each bottle was surrounded by the shavings, before placing another layer of newspaper down and covering it with a thin piece of board, inger-sized holes on either side of it. Yet another layer of newspaper was added, before the final layer of potions was packed in, the remainder of the wooden shavings were dumped on top, before the box was sealed and levitated to the Professor’s office, where it was sent to the Headmaster’s office via the Floo network.

Hermione had watched the entire process in awe of his calm ability, trying her best not to focus too hard on his temptingly dexterous fingers and soothing, yet sinful voice.

The pair returned to the laboratory briefly to clean and pack up the equipment. When they were done, Hermione was sent back to her dorm with instructions to return for another duelling lesson on Saturday night.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *Latin - 'temperet natura fluxus' - Loosely translates to 'regulate natural flow'  
> ** Latin - 'sensum suscipiat' - Loosely translates to 'sense retain'


	19. ~ Final Lessons

The weeks that followed her brewing lesson passed in a haze, and it felt like time was slipping away from her. She was never not busy, even with Marian deciding one meeting a week would have to suffice to let her study for the upcoming exams.

Friday nights were spent with Marian – and occasionally Fabian – working on the final stages of her training. Having nurtured her young charge’s innate desire to obey, Marian tempered it with lessons on whom could be trusted, and how far that trust should extend. To this end, Marian helped Hermione to refine her Legillimency, and to read physical cues from those around her. They discussed the dangers of putting herself into the hands of another, comparing that to the benefits and teaching her to weigh her options before agreeing to anything.

Fabian visited several times to assess the effects of her debut night ordeal. After some intense sessions that left her feeling more emotionally raw than anything Marian had done, Fabian found her to be resilient and almost unaffected and gave his permission for the collaring to go ahead.  He had several discussions with the girl regarding consent and the dubiousness of such a thing in a world where one may not always know their limits – “Never be afraid to use your safe word if you are truly uncomfortable with the situation, whether it be that you are in pain, or that you are not comfortable doing something you have been asked to do.” Hermione had nodded her understanding at this and the session had ended in a quiet supper with fruit and chocolate for dessert.

Her weekends were mostly spent in study of one form or another. Her days were given over to her normal school work, which had become more time-consuming than ever, and her evenings were spent with Professor Snape in his office. They would brew or duel, occasionally having the house elves bring tea from the kitchens and discussing the theory behind the practice.

Lucius joined them one night, following a particularly vicious argument with Narcissa. Hermione was allowed to watch as the two men duelled away their frustrations. Lucius’ hair apparently grew at an astonishingly rapid pace as it now reached his upper thighs, falling in a soft curtain when left loose and flying about his lithe form as he twirled around the courtyard. After the duel, which ended in Lucius being practically glued to the wall, Professor Snape had commented that perhaps he should cut his hair shorter, or tie it up when duelling. Lucius had hummed thoughtfully, then taken his wand to the pale locks and sliced them off level with his elbows. He vanished the fallen hair then dropped gracefully into a conjured armchair by the fire, summoning a tumbler and a bottle of Scotch.

During her private lessons, Hermione tried her best to tease her professor – soon to be Master – though the task had become significantly harder since she had been gifted the clothing. True to his word, the items sloughed off dirt once they were removed, giving her no excuse to wear something more revealing. As a result, she became subtler in her teasing, using innuendo, moderating her voice. Occasionally during their quieter moments, she would cast a transparency charm, letting him catch a glimpse of her breasts’ curves or her inner thighs. He never said a word, only growling and clenching his fists or turning away. His best guess was that Lucius had added a charm to the clothing. Maybe it was a cruel joke since he saw her more often – although it was surprising, considering the possible consequences.

Marian was quite satisfied with her antics and encouraged her to allow herself to fall into suggestive positions occasionally. Hermione had taken this to mean, “Make every position he puts you in sexual,” and began doing just that.

One particular evening, Professor Snape had tied her to the floor of the courtyard in a kneeling position. As he stood over her, she stared up at him, a wanton look in her eyes as she felt the first tendrils of arousal creeping their way through her body. The position she was in didn’t need any help to become suggestive; he was so close, had she been able to use her hands, she could have reached out and touched him. In that moment, she felt utterly dominated and wanted nothing more than to please the man above her. Instead, she stared up at him and nodded along to his lecture about ensuring stable footing before casting. He paused mid-sentence, the words catching in his throat. Her tongue had flickered out, wetting her lips. It could have been an innocent gesture, if her eyes hadn’t bounced to the front of his trousers and back.

The exams spanned two weeks. They were the most stressful to date, and tensions ran high as nerves frayed under the constant pressure. The teachers used the fortnight before to turn their classes into revision sessions, and even those ceased when the exams started properly. Those lucky enough to have less exams used the time between them to cram a few more moments of study in. Harry and Ron only had two exams in the second week, so after Wednesday they chose to spend the time relaxing before they had to start working again. Typical of them, really. The small yoga group stopped meeting over the period as well, as their schedules made it impossible to coordinate for everyone.

Hermione flew through her exams, confident in her knowledge and ability. She did her best to help the boys with their study, but eventually gave up as Ron wouldn’t stop whining and they all seemed more interested in the Quidditch World Cup qualifiers than studying.

Hermione’s final session with Marian had been on the night of Hermione’s last exam and Marian took the opportunity to quiz Hermione on all that she had learned, before going over the final topic – contract negotiations. They spent an hour poring over Hermione’s own contract, Marian pointing out important clauses and explaining how certain sections may be negotiated. She explained that all play with other Dominants or submissives would be negotiated by the Dominants involved, following an in-depth discussion between each Dominant and their submissive. Marian made a point of impressing one detail upon her – ultimately, the submissive was the one truly in control.  A Dominant would not – and was often magically bound so that they _could_ not – do anything that their submissive truly didn’t want or couldn’t handle. Fabian joined them late in the evening to briefly describe sub-space and to wish her good luck in case he missed her collaring.

As the trio made to part, Fabian kissed Hermione lightly on either cheek and gently removed her bracelets. Grasping them lightly in his hands, he shook them, the chains slowly melting together as he did so. When he was done, the two small loops had become a single large one and he passed it over her head, settling it around her neck. He tapped the tip of his wand to the chain and it slowly constricted until it fit securely around her neck, almost like a collar. “This is a temporary collar – it will not be visible whilst you are wearing your uniform, however it _will_ become visible to those around you when you are not wearing your uniform. A Fiendfyres’ Dominant or submissive will know that it is one of ours – to those trained and active at Fiendfyres’, the metal appears to contain a rippling flame – and others will usually assume that it is a necklace. This is to symbolise that you have completed your training as a submissive and to indicate that you have been spoken for. Wear it with pride my dear; it is not often that a Dominant requests a submissive whose training is incomplete.”

Hermione gave a watery smile and, gesturing vaguely said, “May I?”

At Fabian’s nod, she wrapped her arms tightly around his middle, pressing her cheek to his chest. “Thank you,” she whispered, “I hope you can make it to my collaring, Sir.”

Fabian wrapped one arm around her shoulders, bringing his free hand up to pat her bushy head. “So do I, dear girl. You will make a formidable triad.”

They parted and Hermione turned to Marian, who welcomed the girl into her arms with a teary smile of her own. “It has been a pleasure, Hermione. Your invitation to the Yule Ball will arrive by owl in a few days. It will contain instructions for the night specific to your circumstances.”

Hermione nodded, turned, walked to the fireplace and, taking a handful of Floo powder, glanced over her shoulder at her mentors as she prepared to return to Hogwarts. Before she could throw the powder into the flames, Marian spoke once again, “Oh, Hermione? There is no ‘impotency clause’. That was just a bit of fun on my behalf to worry them.” Winking, Marian gestured to the floo. “Have fun.”

Hermione grinned evilly, threw the powder into the flames, and stepped through, calling, “Hogwarts!” as she went.

~oOo~

When Hermione reached her dorm, she found Lavender and Parvati leaning over her bed, whispering about something they had found there. Rolling her eyes, Hermione cleared her throat and waited for the girls to return to their own beds, before making her way across to hers and picking up the letter sitting neatly on the pillow. Keeping an eye on the two girls across the room, Hermione split the elaborate wax seal and unfolded the letter to read.

_____________________

_Dear Miss Granger,_

_It is my pleasure to formally invite you to the Christmas gathering of the Slug Club. There will be people from all walks of life in attendance, and as such it shall be a fantastic way for you to garner connections that will be useful to you in your post-Hogwarts career._

_The party begins at Eight pm sharp, on Friday the Twentieth of December. Please be aware that the dress code is Formal and dress appropriately._

_No RSVP is required, but you shall be asked for your invitation at the door. You may bring one guest to accompany you, at your discretion._

_I look forward to seeing you, and all the best,_

_Professor H. Slughorn_

_____________________

Hermione screwed her nose up. She wasn’t particularly keen on attending, but Lucius had mentioned receiving an invitation during his last visit and had said that he might use it as an excuse to escape the manor. Knowing now that there were no serious repercussions to come from Lucius and Professor Snape touching her, Hermione decided that she _would_ go. She would have to acquire a dress, however, which would mean applying for permission to go to Hogsmeade alone. Perhaps if Ginny were to go with her? A pair would be more likely to gain a pass than a single student and the younger girl might have some advice as to what she should wear.

Tucking the invitation inside her trunk, she locked and warded it, before leaving to find Ginny, studiously ignoring her roommates.

She soon found the other girl – in her own room, reading through her invitation. At Hermione’s tap on the door frame, Ginny looked up, a grin spreading across her face.

“You wanna see if we can get a pass for Hogsmeade tomorrow?”

Hermione nodded her reply. “Yeah, I thought we could ask at breakfast and go straight after – if we’re allowed, that is.”

Ginny agreed and the two girls said ‘goodnight,’ before parting – Ginny headed to her bathroom and Hermione down to the Room of Requirement for a quick workout before bed.

When she had worked up a light sweat, Hermione stopped, disillusioned herself and returned to her dorm. She showered quickly, changed into her pyjamas and went to bed.

~oOo~

At breakfast, the two girls approached the High Table. Professors McGonagall and Dumbledore were seated next to each other and, at Ginny’s nudge, Hermione spoke. “Headmaster, Professor McGonagall, we were wondering if we could maybe visit Hogsmeade today – Professor Slughorn is hosting a Christmas party next Friday and we were hoping you would allow us to go dress shopping.”

McGonagall looked to Dumbledore, who nodded slowly. “Provided you wait until lunch. Professor Snape is heading down to collect some supplies – you can go with him.”

McGonagall agreed. “He certainly won’t appreciate the company, but it is for the best. We don’t want you girls wandering about on your own.”

Glancing at each other, the two girls eagerly agreed.

“Very well,” Dumbledore said, “I will inform Professor Snape that he is to wait for you at the gates – although I would advise you to be there before he arrives.”

Taking his advice, the girls ate a large breakfast, studied together until first break, then changed into some casual clothes and headed down to Hagrid’s hut to have hot chocolate and wait for Professor Snape – they planned to wait until he left the castle, then meet him on his way to the gates. The red-head asked about Hermione’s ‘necklace’ and pursued the topic briefly, but ultimately dropped it.

They warmed their hands by the fire, chatted amiably with Hagrid and played with Fang for the majority of the period.

Some fifteen minutes before lunch, the pair heard a loud crack and, looking towards the gates, spotted Lucius Malfoy. The girls remained unnoticed as he headed up to the castle. Shrugging, they returned to their conversation, though Hermione was curious as to what he was doing there.

As the bell tolled to indicate the beginning of lunch, the girls stood, picking up their school bags and bidding the friendly half-giant goodbye, before stepping outside to wait for the professor to appear. Almost immediately, he strode into view, the elder Malfoy hot on his heels. The girls said ‘goodbye’ to Hagrid and set off at a run, aiming for a part of the path that was a fair distance ahead of the two wizards. They reached the path a few yards ahead of the Professor and his friend and stopped, waiting for the wizards to reach them. Professor Snape scowled coldly, but barked an order for them to follow him.

Ginny, not wanting to be scolded for dragging her feet kept close to him, whilst Hermione, giving Lucius a furtive look, dropped back to talk to him.

Lucius’ eyes immediately fell upon the chain at her throat. He smiled. “When did you complete your training?” he muttered, careful not to be heard.

“Last night,” Hermione replied softly, fingering the chain.

“We are going to have such fun.”

Hermione blushed at his suggestive smirk, ducking her head and hurrying to catch up with Ginny.

The professor eventually slowed his pace after they had left the school. It appeared Lucius was going to accompany them on their trip. When they reached the village, the group came to a sudden halt, their dour professor whirling to face them.

“I am going to collect supplies from Pippin’s. Lucius, you are to supervise these two in their dress shopping.” He sneered. “Keep yourself _out_ of the fitting rooms.”

Lucius smirked. “Yes, _father_. Shall we meet at Madam Puddifoot’s?” His tone was teasing, eyes alight with mischief.

Professor Snape growled, his scowl deepening. “Don’t be ridiculous. We will meet at the Three Broomsticks in two hours.”

Eyes wide, the girls nodded, heading in the direction of Gladrags. Lucius followed them at a distance, then waited patiently on a stool while the two tried on dress after dress. He didn’t bother sneaking into the fitting rooms – he would much prefer not being rendered impotent for a week and the Weasley girl was simply of no interest to him.

Eventually, the girls settled on a dress each – a pale pink number for Hermione that fitted snugly around her torso, before flaring out slightly at her hips, forming a loosely fitted skirt. Its deep ‘V’ neckline gave a tempting view of her cleavage, the flaming silver necklace accentuating it nicely. She selected a pair of low heels that matched her dress and paid whilst Ginny found herself a necklace. Hermione had already told the other girl not to worry about the price and Lucius had quietly added a few galleons to their budget.

Ginny brought her dress – deep blue and loosely fitted – to the counter, along with her matching shoes and a necklace with a beautiful blue teardrop pendant on a plain chain. The girls were shocked to find that the cost amounted to just a few sickles. Hermione threw a knowing smile at Lucius as they left the shop, mouthing, ‘thank you’.

Realising that they were running late, the trio hurried to the Three Broomsticks, bustling in to find Professor Snape sitting at a corner table. They quickly joined him, had a rushed late lunch, and made their way back to the castle.


	20. ~ Under The Mistletoe

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *reminder goes off, 1 hour to publish*  
> *reminder goes off, time to publish*  
> *2 hours later*  
> Ooh shit, forgot to publish..

Hermione smoothed her hands down the front of her dress. It must have been the thirtieth time in an hour.

“Stop fidgeting!” Ginny admonished, slapping her hands away.

Hermione bit her lip, looking about nervously. “I can’t help it.”

“That interested in McLaggen, are you?” The other girl smirked teasingly.

“No,” Hermione answered quickly, “He’s too… too handsy. I only agreed to go with him to be polite.”

Ginny nodded, eyes narrowed suspiciously. “If you say so – but handsy, Merlin yes. He seems way too eager.”

Hermione shuddered. “I dread to think what would happen if he caught me under the mistletoe.”

“Just stay where people can see you.” Ginny suggested. “Hopefully he won’t try anything in front of a bunch of professors.”

Taking a deep breath, Hermione nodded. The portrait opened before she could reply. McLaggen stepped through, followed by Dean Thomas. The two boys offered their arms, Ginny accepting quickly, Hermione hesitating.

The walk down to Professor Slughorn’s office felt longer than it really was. McLaggen had wrapped his arm around her waist shortly after dismounting the last moving staircase and tried incessantly to slide his hand lower. Constantly leaning towards her, he pressed his face into her neck. Her shoulders began to ache from raising them to fend off his unrelenting advances.

Ginny and Dean could only watch on, sympathy in their eyes.

When they finally reached Slughorn’s office, Hermione pushed away from her over-eager ‘date’, citing the need to look for her invitation. Once found, she handed it to a small house-elf, as did Ginny and McLaggen. He scrutinised each one and the recipient, before allowing them to pass.

The office was surprisingly spacious, with students, teachers and alumni milling about among emerald, scarlet and gold decorations. Trays of drinks and canapes floated lightly through the crowd. One, laden with tall flutes filled with a shimmering pink liquid, floated past the small group. The girls glanced at each other before retrieving one each. Taking a sip, Hermione found that it was nothing more harmful than an exceedingly sweet berry punch.

She looked around, spotting a very uncomfortable-looking Harry across the room, and began subtly leading McLaggen across to him. Ginny and Dean followed suit, the red-head waving at Luna, who stood dreamily by Harry’s side.

Half way across the room, Hermione felt a jerk on her arm and turned to find McLaggen smiling at her, leaning in the direction of the small dancefloor. She accepted his silent invitation with a sigh, holding him carefully at arm’s length.

The song lasted an eternity as he attempted to manoeuvre himself closer. At her refusal, his eyes began roaming along her body, eventually alighting on her delicate chain collar. He scrunched up his nose, looking rather childish. “Why don’t you take that off. It doesn’t suit your dress at all.”

Hermione glared at him. “I like it.”

“It’s like a collar. You look like someone’s pet.”

Hermione raised an eyebrow. “Well don’t go treating me like it.”

The boy fell silent, his hands resuming their wandering as he tried, once again, to press himself against her.

His hands refused to release their grip as the song ended. Hermione wanted to scream, instead whining softly – too softly for her otherwise-occupied partner to notice. It seemed her torture was to be indefinite.

Casting about for someone – anyone – to rescue her, she spotted a curtain of long blond hair, falling lightly across toned shoulders. He was unmistakeable and she couldn’t take her eyes off him. His hair had grown out again – it now reached his hips. She saw the moment he felt her staring. His body went rigid, shoulders tightening almost imperceptibly. Moments later, he made a broad sweeping gesture, using the opportunity to scan the room, his gaze falling upon the staring girl. His eyes raked over first her, then her dance partner, before a single, sculpted eyebrow raised itself quizzically.

Hermione gave him a pleading look and he raised his chin slightly in acknowledgement. He finished his conversation, placed his empty tumbler on a floating tray and wound his way through the crowd.

McLaggen was keeping her near the middle of the floor in an attempt to keep other possible suitors away. Noting this, Lucius found a partner in a tall witch with dirty-blonde hair and slowly danced his way across to the couple.

Hermione noticed that the music slowly became faster, couples merging into groups of threes and fours. Lucius and his partner formed a group with Hermione and McLaggen.

They danced around each other in several loops, then, despite never having performed the move herself, Hermione found herself switching partners with the other witch. Lucius had removed her from the arms of a reluctant McLaggen, before taking her into his own, holding her close – almost flush against his body. Once she had been successfully rescued from her over-eager partner, the quicker music faded into a slower tune.

Hermione allowed herself a small smile at her new partner, looking up at him with pink cheeks. “Thank you,” she whispered.

“That boy is an abysmal dancer,” Lucius answered, “Wherever did you find him?”

Hermione shrugged. “He asked me in front of half my house. I hadn’t a date at the time, so I could hardly refuse him.”

“Hex him next time.”

Hermione allowed herself a giggle at that, and he pulled her closer, the gap between their bodies reduced to naught.

“What happened to no touching?”

Lucius raised an eyebrow at her. “Marian lifted the oath for tonight – she wanted us to be able to protect you should you find yourself in an… unfortunate position.”

“I’m glad she did, though I’m struggling to picture you as a knight in shining armour.” She smiled innocently at his half-hearted glare. She knew he wasn’t really upset with her, but decided it best to change the topic anyway.  “Professor Snape has been rather lenient with me lately.”

“He’s trying to ease you into discovering that he is Master Tobias – ‘sucking up’, I believe it’s called.”

Hermione nodded. “He’s been horrible to me for a long time, but I have known it to be a ruse for almost as long. He’s actually quite brilliant, if a bit mean.”

Lucius agreed with a smile, “That he is, Little Lioness.”

Hermione looked to her side, seeking out the person Lucius had been talking with. Her eyes settled on Fabian, who smiled and raised his drink to her.

Her brows drew together in confusion. “What’s Fabian doing here?”

“Supervising,” Lucius replied.

“How did he get in?”

“He’s brilliant with charms. We duplicated my invitation and replaced my name with his – the elf didn’t even notice.”

Hermione’s mouth fell open in awe.

Lucius chuckled, his hand leaving her waist to close her mouth. “You’ll catch flies.”

She blushed, ducking her head. “Is Professor Snape here?”

Lucius turned her so that she could see her dour professor. His eyes were fixed on the couple, a scowl on his face as Slughorn chattered in his ear. Hermione smiled brightly at him, before Lucius twirled them away again.

“Your Head of House is scowling at me.”

Hermione giggled. “I wonder why.”

Lucius pressed his hips closer to hers, allowing her to feel the slight bulge there. “Perhaps she thinks I have wicked intentions.”

Hermione’s eyelids fluttered shut, enjoying the feel of his body against hers – in truth, the past weeks had been just as torturous for her. “Would she be wrong?”

Lucius shrugged, observing her upturned face, before his eyes wandered lower, following the line of her neck, and landing on the creamy cleavage exposed by the deep ‘V’ of her dress. He tore his eyes away, returning them to her face – the oath may have been lifted, but Marian would still punish him for pushing the limits.

“Not at all …”

After dancing for several songs, Hermione’s feet began to ache. Noticing her discomfort, Lucius lead her to the edge of the floor, slipping out into the milling crowd. At some point his arm settled comfortably around her waist. The pair made their way across to Professor Snape, still glaring as he endured their host’s unceasing chatter.

“Finished playing hero?”

A smile danced over the elder Malfoy’s lips, “For now. The game has its rewards.”

“I’m certain it does.”

Hermione smiled, her face flushed from dancing. “I really did need rescuing, Sir. My partner was an awful dancer.”

Snape growled.

Slughorn stopped chattering, finally noticing the two new arrivals. “Ah, Lucius, Miss Granger! Enjoying yourselves?”

“Well enough,” Lucius answered, Hermione nodding along.

“Wonderful! I was just telling Severus, Mister Potter has proven quite the potioneer this year. Well, I’m too old to take one on now, but he really should offer the boy an apprenticeship when he graduates.”

Severus snorted derisively. “The boy shouldn’t even be in a NEWT-level Potions class.”

“Now, Severus, you have been far too harsh. That boy is borderline genius, given the opportunity.”

The professor bristled at his colleague’s patronising tone. His gaze was colder than the Lake when it was icy.

“He has been doing better this year,” Hermione interjected. “I think it’s because he’s found out he has to do well in potions to become an Auror.”

“Better? He’s brilliant!” Slughorn insisted. “Now, I believe I may be in need of another drink. Lucius, Miss Granger, would you like anything?”

Both refused politely.

After standing silently for a few moments, they realised Slughorn had been distracted and would not be returning.

Breathing a collective sigh of relief, the group relaxed somewhat, falling into easy conversation as they had many times in the last few weeks. They discussed new books and potions that could be used to strengthen offensive and defensive spells.

Mid-way through their conversation, Cormac wandered over, taking Hermione’s arm. “C’mon, Hermione. You don’t want to be hanging around with this sort.”

Lucius scoffed, his grip on her waist tightening, though not painfully.

“Problem, Malfoy?”

“None, unless you count yourself.”

“Let go of the girl.”

Lucius raised an eyebrow incredulously. “I think she would prefer to remain here. At least I can both dance and hold an intelligent conversation.”

Cormac scowled. “C’mon, Hermione.” He pulled on her arm, but Hermione shook him off.

“No, thank you. We were having a rather interesting conversation and I would like to continue it.”

The boy harrumphed but left, unwilling to take on the two scowling men.

Their conversation resumed, Lucius holding her tightly against his side.

Minutes later, a smirk formed on Professor Snape’s face, his eyes locked on something above the still-entwined couple. “Shall I fetch Minerva? I’m certain she would be able to… rectify your situation.”

“What?”

“I beg your pardon?”

The Professor gestured above them. Looking up, Hermione found they were stood under a bright, blooming sprig of mistletoe, yellow-green berries forming as she stared. She tried to step away, but her feet felt as if they were glued to the floor. Her cheeks heated, the blush creeping down her chest to the tops of her breasts.

“Look, Harry. Hermione’s stuck under some mistletoe with Mister Malfoy,” Luna said, her voice still dreamy.

The entire room seemed to turn their attention to the couple.

“Mister Malfoy, you keep your hands to yourself! She is a minor!” Professor McGonagall shouted, pushing her way across the room.

Hermione opened her mouth to respond, but Lucius cut her off. “I beg to differ, and besides, we are trapped – unless we fulfil the terms of the charm.”

The irate witch turned her wrath on the host of the party. “Why would you have enchanted mistletoe at a party attended by underaged students?”

Slughorn looked cowed, but defended himself. “The enchanted Mistletoe is nothing to do with me. The castle creates it on its own at this time of year.”

Minerva scowled. “Fetch Albus. We cannot allow them to fulfil the terms of the charm.”

Slughorn hurried away to place a floo call. The entire crowd had stilled, pressing in around the trapped couple.

Fabian worked his way towards them, eventually coming close enough that they could hear him without anyone knowing that he was talking to them. “Albus won’t be able to break the charm. It’s ancient magic, imbued in the very stonework of the castle. To break the charm would require rebuilding the entire castle – not something worth doing to prevent a little kiss. Don’t go overboard though, Lucius.”

Lucius nodded his understanding, his eyes falling on Hermione’s lips.

“Oh, and I’ve charmed the entrance. Nobody will remember any of your interactions tonight – save ourselves, of course.”

Hermione smiled tightly. “Thank you, Fabian.”

“It’s my pleasure, my dear.” Smiling at her, the older wizard slipped away.

The Headmaster took his time arriving at the party. When he finally made his way to the centre of the crowd, her peered briefly at the large branch of mistletoe, then its two captors and shrugged, turning to the Transfiguration Professor. “There is nothing to be done, Minerva. They can’t very well stand there until the season turns.”

Minerva opened her mouth, ready to shout at him, but he held up his hand. “Minerva, the girl is well and truly of age. The simplest solution is to allow the terms of the charm to be fulfilled – a simple kiss – and have Severus obliviate those who needn’t know. Lovely necklace, Miss Granger.”

Minerva spluttered angrily, but eventually fell quiet, glaring at Lucius. Hermione’s blush deepened.

Grinning cheekily at his former professor, Lucius turned, pulling Hermione to face him fully. He slipped his fingers into her hair, placing his thumb under her jaw to encourage her chin to lift. Leaning in, he pressed his hand into the small of her back, holding the length of her body firmly against his own. With a final glance around the room, he pressed his lips to hers, nipping at her lower lip and probing with his tongue, encouraging her to open to him. His hand moved around so that he was gripping her neck, squeezing lightly.

The sudden restriction of her breathing made Hermione gasp, Lucius’ tongue slipping inside as she did so. She found she enjoyed the light choking, becoming curious as to how much she could take. Her hips circled against his and Lucius felt himself hardening in his trousers and his grip on her throat tightened slightly, a growl finding its way up his throat and into her mouth.

Slowly, the branch of mistletoe receded, vanishing into nothing as the pair parted, panting for breath. Lucius had released his grip on her throat and the rush of oxygen sent a tingle down her spine.

The assembled crowd whooped and cheered, before slowly dispersing, leaving just the small group of three with Professor McGonagall, who seemed ready to burst.

“Lucius Malfoy, that display was completely unnecessary! You will apologise and release Miss Granger at once!”

Lucius smirked at her, releasing the slightly dazed girl, who remained by his side, and looking the older woman directly in the eye as he said, “I apologise, Professor, for offending your tender sensibilities by teaching your darling student how she _should_ be kissed – though, I daresay she enjoyed it.”

Professor Snape snorted, drawing the attention of his irate colleague. “Severus Snape! Don’t you encourage him!”

“Calm down, Minerva. It was only a kiss,” Dumbledore soothed, patting her shoulder. “Shall we dance?”

The head of Gryffindor glared at Lucius some more, before offering her hand to lead the Headmaster to the dancefloor.

Thinking it best to wrap up to avoid any more unfortunate incidents, Slughorn slowly began dispersing the party within the hour. The last guests to leave were Hermione, Lucius, Fabian and Professor Snape. The professor modified Slughorn’s memory whilst Fabian dismantled the charm he had placed on the door. Once they could safely leave with their memories intact, the group stepped out into the hall, the Professor leaving quickly for his rooms, while the others lingered.

“Old Horace still knows how to throw a party, I see,” Fabian commented.

“Yes,” Lucius agreed, “though this one was bigger than the ones in my day – then again, I suppose he’s collected more guests since then.”

Fabian nodded thoughtfully, a frown crossing his face as he tried to remember something, before fading as he found what he was searching for. “Ah! Hermione, Marian asked me to give you this.” He dug through his pockets, pulling out a white envelope, sealed with red wax that seemed to form a dancing flame. “I suggest you open it when you are alone and store it somewhere safe – it is both an invitation and a portkey.”

Hermione nodded, accepting the envelope. “Thank you, Fabian. Do you know yet whether you’ll be attending the ball?”

“Yes, Helina wants to attend the collaring, so we will be there.”

Hermione beamed. “That’s wonderful! I can’t wait to meet her – you’ve told me so much about her; she sounds like a wonderful woman.”

Lucius chuckled. “She is. Now, off to bed with you. I will arrange a dress for the ball and have it delivered in a few days.”

Blushing, Hermione scurried off to bed, leaving the two men to make their way home.

She checked that her trunk was properly packed for the train ride in the morning and slid the invitation between the pages of her journal, before changing into her pyjamas and slipping into bed. She was asleep in a matter of moments.

 


	21. ~ Negotiations

“Are you two done in there yet?”

“Almost! Five minutes!” Ginny called back, hair pins clenched between her teeth.

Harry groaned his response “You said that twenty minutes ago!”

Rolling their eyes, the girls returned to their work, ignoring his whining.

Ginny had created a loose braid starting at the top of her head that looped down to the right, before sweeping back up to join the rest of her hair, which was gathered in a low up-do, curls tumbling down her back, twisting and turning like a waterfall between her shoulder blades. A small section at the front, just forward from the braid, had been left to fall in loose curls – easily tucked behind her ear, yet still stylish.

They were now putting the finishing touches on her makeup – a light dusting of powder and some soft eyeshadow to bring out her eyes with a nude lipstick, charmed to neither smudge nor rub off – no matter what she did to it.

Hermione assessed herself in the mirror, turning this way and that. Pleased, she turned to Ginny and thanked the younger girl before ducking across to her bedroom.  A large box sat pride of place on her bed, shimmering silver, secured with a green ribbon. The heavy moleskin covering protecting it from the harsh English weather had been discarded almost immediately, but she hadn’t been able to bring herself to open the box. Even considering it made butterflies flutter in her stomach.

Taking a deep, steadying breath, she pulled loose the ribbon, and lifted the lid. All she could see was silver tissue paper, protecting whatever garment was inside. Her hand shaking, she peeled it back, revealing neatly folded silks of a beautiful emerald green. It appeared to be a haltered bodice, glittering with silver jewels arranged in serpentine swirls. Reaching for her wand on the nightstand, Hermione tapped the dress once and stepped back. The flawless material floated before her.

The haltered bodice was barely-there – fitted and revealing, yet somehow tasteful. It consisted of jewel-studded silk, which would wrap around her neck, coming down to cover her breasts – though she couldn’t be certain how it would stay in position. The neck consisted of a deep ‘V’, which would expose her modest cleavage, whilst her back and sides would be left almost completely exposed by the swathe of fabric cut out. Two strips of fabric near enough formed an ‘X’, the centre of which would be over her navel, with the lowest portion being filled by a loose skirt. It was made of a flowing, emerald slip under matching, silk chiffon, soft and rising barely high enough to cover the top of her bum. Running her fingers along the chiffon, she found it felt sleek and cool to the touch, almost like water. The same silver jewels from the bodice glinted about the skirt, a continuation of the sinuous serpentine pattern, before starting to peter out and ending at what would be mid-thigh. The skirt was neither flared, nor fitted, falling gently, almost to the floor.

Dropping her fluffy, white bath towel, she let it pool at her feet, before sliding into the dress. As expected, it fit perfectly, the silk caressing her skin – she had used a depilatory charm on her legs and delicate areas, making them all the more sensitive. The bodice seemed charmed to stay in place, fitting comfortably around her breasts and remaining there as she moved about the room.

A letter attached to the package had told her to forego wearing underwear of any kind. She could just imagine the smirk twisting his lips deliciously as he wrote the instruction. The only other instruction had been to wear her hair loose, but held back – hence the time spent with Ginny.

Inside the box, previously hidden by the dress, she found a pair of platform stiletto heels. An emerald that matched her dress, they were decorated with the same gems as the bodice, imitating its twisting patterns. Slipping them on, she found they felt almost exactly as those she had worn the night of her debut. Perhaps Pippy had charmed these as well, or he had attempted his own rather successful version.

A quick check of the time told her it was a quarter past eight - almost time to leave. She crossed to her bedroom door, poked her head out and called ‘goodbye’ to her friends. She ducked back inside and locked it, but not before hearing a clamour of goodbyes erupt from around the house, along with Ginny’s shout of, “Say hello to Fabian for me!” followed by a murmur of agreement.

Peering into the mirror, she began to work the glamours around her makeup, concentrating to make sure everything looked natural and perfect. It was a big night, after all.

At eight thirty, she gave herself one last glance over in the mirror, fluffed her curls, then picked up the invitation and tapped it with her wand, saying, “ _Portus_.”

She felt a tugging behind her navel, like a hook pulling her through a pipe. Within a moment, she was spat out the other end, landing with a wobble on the front porch of the Fiendfyres’ mansion. A firm hand pressed into the middle of her back to keep her upright.

Before she could turn to see the owner of the hand, warm breath ghosted over her cheek, the familiar silky voice of her professor filling her ears. “Careful, Miss Granger. We wouldn’t want you to ruin your dress.”

A shiver ran up her spine. “Thank you, Professor,” The words slipped out before she could stop them and she froze, her entire body going rigid.  

She felt him stiffen behind her. He stepped in front of her, pale grey eyes boring into hers as he demanded, “How long have you known?”

Swallowing thickly, Hermione answered, “Since November. I was with Marian and Fabian when your patronus came.”

He growled, his scowl deepening. “I shall deal with you later.” With that promise sending a delightful shiver through her, he turned away and hurtled through the door in a flurry of blond hair and billowing robes.

Hermione stood outside on the porch for a moment, gathering her nerves. A moment turned into minutes and she shook her head to clear it as she felt the air beside her beginning to ripple. Stepping aside, she watched as Lucius – _glamoured_ , of course – appeared on the porch.

After regaining his balance, he turned to the girl and looked her up and down, a smile coming to his features. “You look just as exquisite as I had expected.”

Hermione blushed, ducking her head. “Thank you, Sir.”

He offered his arm to her. “Come, Severus will be here soon.”

“He’s already here.” Taking his arm, she allowed him to lead her inside.

“Oh? Why didn’t he escort you inside?”

“I think I made him angry.”

Lucius nodded. “Ah, so he has discovered your little secret. Fear not, you won’t receive more than a spanking tonight – and I daresay it will be a rather light one, considering the transgression was made prior to your collaring.”

Hermione shivered at the thought. She didn’t think spanking was much of a punishment – if Fabian’s spankings were anything to go by.

Lucius felt the movement, a smirk lifting the corner of his lips.

The pair walked in comfortable silence until they reached Marian’s office. Relinquishing her grip on his arm, Hermione blushed while Lucius bowed and stepped back, before slipping behind him as he knocked.

The door swung open and Hermione peeked around her human shield. The professor, no longer disguised, was glaring hotly at her from a chair across the desk from Marian, who was grinning broadly.

Lucius chuckled at her behaviour and stepped aside, ushering her inside ahead of him.

Hermione entered reluctantly, her eyes on her toes. Sighing, Lucius nudged her into the middle of the three chairs, forcing her to sit between himself and her irate professor. Clasping her hands in her lap, Hermione kept her eyes downcast.

The group sat in silence for several long minutes. Hermione could feel his burning glare on the side of her head.

Having observed them, Marian cleared her throat. “Severus, stop glaring or I shall summon Fabian. Hermione, the contract is _not_ in your lap – and Lucius, stop smirking; this is not funny.”

Lucius, once again blond, pursed his lips, doing his best to supress his smirk. “I beg to differ, Marian. It is, just a little bit.”

The Professor grunted, but turned his gaze elsewhere and Hermione slowly lifted her head, eyes landing on the contract before her.

The front page stated the over-all purpose of the contract, as well as their names and titles.

______________

**Dominant / Submissive**

**CONTRACT**

**Entered into between…**

_Severus_ _Snape_ **and** _Lucius Malfoy_ **“The Dominants”**  
and  
_Hermione Granger_ **“The Submissive”**

 **on**  
_25 December 1996_ ****  
{Commencement Date}  
For the term of: _One Year_

______________

Glancing up at Marian, she began reading through the contract. Parts of it had already been filled out and signed off, whilst others were incomplete.

They had agreed that Lucius and Severus would continue her training, whilst providing a safe environment for play, along with any equipment and the necessary emotional support following their sessions, as well as managing contraception. They would also assist with her education. Hermione would make herself available whenever they should summon her – outside of classes. She would be afforded time both for her studies and to spend with her friends.

Outside of their private rooms, Hermione was to call them both ‘Sir’ – taking care not to give away their relationship to friends and colleagues. When she was disguised in public, the two men would address her using pet names or ‘Leda’ – never her own name. They also agreed that, should Hermione decide she was uncomfortable with a title, it would no longer be used. In private, she was allowed to call them by name, unless told otherwise.

It was decided that her behaviour as it was would be acceptable: she would kneel at the beginning of each session and remain so until instructed to move; her eyes were to remain averted unless given leave to do otherwise; and in conversation, she would always defer to her Dominants and allow them the opportunity to speak first. All of this, however, was contingent upon doing so not giving away the true nature of their relationship. In those circumstances, allowances would be made.

Hermione’s main responsibility was to provide sexual servitude, occasionally performing domestic duties, particularly when either of her Masters were hosting guests.

Another clause of the contract stated that any aspect of the relationship could be discussed and renegotiated at any time, providing it was suitable for it to be discussed at that point in time. Marian, with Fabian’s support, insisted it be included in all Fiendfyres’ contracts, and it was non-negotiable. Either it remained in, or the contract was rendered null and void. Hermione would also receive a new journal, linked to a pair already possessed by Lucius and Severus, which could be used for every day communication. She would also be expected to record each day as she had been with Marian, detailing what she had eaten, her exercise, studies and any interesting events that had occurred, as well as making comment to any specifically requested activity. Changes to the arrangement could be made after a lengthy conversation and must be agreed to in writing and signed by all parties. The arrangement could also be terminated at any point should any party become dissatisfied and a new contract could be entered into should they wish to recommence. Termination and commencement would always be done with the supervision of Marian or Fabian, most likely both.

Lucius had informed them that he may request to switch – though this was a delicate subject, which he was reluctant to discuss. He did quietly inform Hermione that he had only ever submitted to Severus and Fabian and that this was unlikely to change, but would not elaborate further on the subject.

When they had ensured that the existing terms were satisfactory, they began filling in the other clauses of the contract.

Severus and Lucius’ goals had been outlined: to train Hermione to their standards with the intention to eventually present her with a full collar. Hermione decided that her main goal would be to serve and please them by training attentively and earning her full collar.

Hermione agreed that she was willing to submit to them sexually and that they could have partial control over her diet, exercise, and clothing. They would control both her pleasure and her pain, but Hermione would always have the right to say ‘no’ if she were to become concerned for her safety or was asked to do something in public that she was uncomfortable with doing or that she felt would endanger the secrecy of their relationship.

They discussed their interests and limits-  
Lucius enjoyed the restraining and restriction of his submissives, primarily through bondage and breath play, among other similar activities. He admitted to being uncomfortable with the thought of piercing her, or the breaking of her skin, but he would consider it again, given more research. He absolutely would _not_ involve himself in serious blood-letting or anything involving true torture – these would be too similar to the activities of the Deatheater revels.  
Severus’ limitations were much the same as Lucius’. His interests, however, veered more towards the infliction of limited pain for the purposes of punishment – and pleasure – so he preferred wax play, nipple clamps, and inflicting punishments. He enjoyed impact play particularly, as both an experience for pleasure and behavioural correction.  
Hermione agreed with restrictions on blood-letting, adding in that everything regarding bodily waste was also definitively off-limits. She also found herself hesitant to let herself be pierced, and agreed it should be done by a professional, if at all. The thought of Lucius’ restrictive play, and Severus’ sensation play made her stomach curl with pleasure, bringing back memories of her debut. Hesitantly, she mentioned that she wanted to experiment with some exhibitionism and mild humiliation. Both of her would-be dominants were a little surprised at the admission, but agreed they would happily introduce her to both.

The responsibility for the planning of scenes would fall primarily on Lucius and Severus, who would discuss each scene with Hermione, allowing her to propose ideas and negotiate aspects that she may be uncomfortable with, including safety, location, roles, equipment, the level of pain in specific areas of her body and the aftercare following the scene.

It was decided they would use a stoplight system rather than a single safe word – Amber would mean that she was unsure, and as a result play would slow down, or pause so they could discuss it, but the scene wouldn’t necessarily be over. Red, however, meant that all play should stop, immediately. It would allow them to talk, to find a way to either avoid or approach the issue differently in the future. They also devised a signal system for when she would be unable to speak; in such a situation, she would be given a bright, squeaky ball which would be squeezed once for ‘slow down’ and squeezed twice, then dropped for ‘stop.’

It was also decided that no permanent marks were to be left, either by play or punishment, and nothing should be done that would leave long-lasting marks or tenderness. Correction methods were limited to corner time, loss of privileges and spanking, caning, flogging or other forms of impact – depending on the severity of the transgression. Figging was an option, but drawing blood for any reason was absolutely out of the question.

The last thing that was agreed was that any changes to their agreement, be it from involving a fourth person to trying new elements of play, would be preceded by a lengthy conversation, and any conflict would be resolved the same way. Marian offered her services as mediator, should it ever become necessary.

When they had signed off on each clause of the contract, Marian called Pippi in and sent her to collect Eva. The elf returned some minutes later, the older witch holding her hand. Eva smiled brightly.

“Alright, ladies first!” conjuring a cot, she directed Hermione onto it and began casting diagnostic charms. After a few short minutes, she stopped and turned to Marian. “I can’t find any ailments – transmissible or otherwise. I would advise, however, that she is a rather small girl and you should both be careful with her,” the Mediwitch said, raising an eyebrow. “And you know exactly what I mean, Lucius, so no, I shall not explain it in detail. Now wipe that smirk off your face – you’re next!”

The expression immediately dropped from Lucius’ lips and he stood, offering his hand to Hermione as she slid down from the cot. Frowning, he took her place and waited for Eva to cast her charms.

He and Severus were found to be clean, but both were cautioned not to over-exert themselves if they found themselves injured – healing properly was more important than sexual gratification. This earned a disbelieving snort from each of the men who were scowled at in return.

The results of each of their medical checks were entered into the relevant section of the contract and signed by each of them in turn, followed by Eva and Marian.

Finally, Lucius produced a relatively flat, black rectangular jeweller’s box, tied with silver ribbon. He placed it on the desk in front of Hermione and gestured for her to open it. She did so hesitantly, revealing a length of delicate silver chain. At each end, a serpent wrapped about the chain, carved of shimmering, shining emerald. The chain was slightly heavier than the one she already wore and didn’t possess the ever-burning flame inside it, but the significance made it all the more beautiful.

“This is only your training collar, Hermione,” Lucius explained, “You must wear it at all times, whether with us or not. Most people will think nothing of it as the snakes aren’t visible to the ordinary witch or wizard, but dominants and submissives will be able to see them and will recognise it as a symbol that you are spoken for.”

“With the rules of our community, it will afford you a modicum of protection,” Severus added “in addition, several protective charms have been placed on it, and the snakes entwine with one another to secure it. Both Lucius and I wear bracelets to match.” He held up his right hand, a light silver chain glinting about his wrist, clasped by a pair of entwined emerald snakes.

Lifting his hand to show her his own bracelet, Lucius continued, “Together, they form a small, closed portkey network. To use the portkey, you must be holding the clasp – though anyone who is touching you at the time will also come with you. If you hold the clasp and say, ‘ _Lux Portus_ ,’ you will be transported to my villa in France and I will be alerted to your presence.”

“Holding the clasp and saying, ‘ _Tenebris Portus_ ,’ will transport you to my private quarters at the school. Likewise, I will be alerted to your presence. If the circumstances of our situation change, we may change either of the destinations – of course, you will be informed, should that be the case.”

“Finally,” Lucius added, “If you are unable to safely leave a situation, you need only cover the clasp with your open palm and our bracelets will begin to warm, becoming hotter both the longer you hold your hand there, and the harder you press.”

Hermione nodded her understanding. They signed the collaring clause in the contract and, smiling, Marian turned to the last page, which already bore Fabian’s signature and each of theirs. The final line was blank and, taking the quill, Marian scratched her signature on it. The contract bound itself with a length of crimson string.  A puddle of wax formed at the intersection of the string, marking itself with the Fiendfyres’ crest. Magic rushed through the room like a cool wind, dying as quickly as it had come.

Marian glanced up at the wall clock. “Shall we?”

Together, the group stood, the two men reapplying their _glamours_ before leaving, gesturing that the ladies should exit ahead of them. Hermione jumped as a firm slap landed on her arse and turned, glaring. Her glare turned to open shock as she was met with grey eyes, flashing above a lop-sided smirk.


	22. ~ Dancing To Ceremony

Hermione had been present for several Fiendfyres’ gatherings. They had only been small, weekend affairs and they could never compare to what she was seeing now. The foyer and dungeons both were packed, the milling crowds spilling out into the corridors.

She was guided through the throng by a firm hand on her lower back. Lucius assured her that the majority were guests from clubs outside Fiendfyres’ and would leave after the first part of the ball, the collaring being an event intended only for the honoured few belonging to Fabian’s exclusive club – those considered family.

Nobody seemed to take any notice of them as they made their way to the dungeon-turned-ballroom, headed for the base of the main podium – the only one present on this night, the others having been removed to create a dancefloor. When they reached their destination, Marian explained that the ball was to take place first. As midnight approached, any guests not belonging to Fiendfyres’ would be escorted from the premises. The collaring was to take place just before midnight, ideally with the clasp being sealed on the hour.

Severus smirked, leaning down to mutter in her ear, “Hear that, witch? Come Christmas, you’re _mine_.”

Her mouth fell open and her eyes fluttered shut. Lucius snickered.

Marian shook her head. “Fabian has requested her first dance, so you two will have to find partners elsewhere, to begin with.”

The two men scowled at her, but turned away, quickly melding into the crowd. Hermione watched as they approached a pair of tall, fair-skinned women with dark, auburn hair.

“You’re not trying to decapitate those ladies, are you, my dear?” Fabian whispered, his hand coming to rest on her shoulder as soft music began to fill the room.

Hermione blinked, shaking her head. “No, Sir.”

He chuckled softly, turning her to face him. Marian had also disappeared, a much older witch with white hair twisted into a tight up-do standing in her place, hands clasped at her front. The woman smiled, hazel eyes twinkling.

“This is my wife, Helina,” The wizard explained, “She’s a headstrong woman – quite like yourself – and she keeps your two in line better than Marian and I ever could.”

Helina smirked. “Yes. It’s quite easy, really. Abraxas is convinced I’ll send him bald permanently – as if anything could prevent Malfoy hair from growing – and Tobias, well … He has been paranoid ever since I gave him a fetching pair of pink braids, in the early days of his training.”

Hermione giggled. “I quite like their hair as it is, although the hip-length thing Master Abraxas is trying seems a bit impractical.”

Helina nodded. “That it is. I’ll mention the pink braids and such later so you can see their faces. Now, off you go. Fabian wants to dance with you before they do and even I can’t keep them at bay forever.”

Looking to Fabian, Hermione hesitantly accepted his outstretched hand and allowed him to guide her onto the dance floor.

He held her loosely, keeping a respectful distance so as not to invade her personal space or upset Lucius and Severus. Throughout the two songs they danced together, an array of Dominants – both male and female – came to request her hand. Each time, Fabian would silently shake his head, then politely inform them that she was spoken for. Most would simply accept Fabian’s response. A brash, young American wizard, however, had yet to meet the legendary Fabian Fiendfyre. He had simply heard that the Fiendfyres’ clubs were famous for their parties and decided to travel to Britain to see for himself. When Fabian politely declined his request, the man immediately drew his wand.

“How ‘bout you quit hogging the pretty witch, old man.”

Fabian raised an eyebrow at the wizard, looking from the tip of his wand to his eyes. He remained silent for a moment, before answering softly, “Perhaps you should reconsider your actions, young man.”

He faltered. Perhaps it was something in Fabian’s tone, so silky smooth and confident. Or perhaps it was that he realised all eyes were trained on him, along with several wands. Bright eyes darted around the room, and he swallowed thickly. The two men with matching partners were glaring menacingly from across the room and he didn’t notice the short, white-haired witch sneaking up behind him until her wand was pressed into his neck. He lowered his wand, not daring to move any further. Fabian waited for what felt like hours before drawing his wand and waving his other hand to dismiss the agitated crowd. Helina removed her wand’s tip from the man’s neck and Fabian sent yellow sparks from his wand to summon someone from the security team.

Moments later, a svelte witch appeared beside him. Fabian gestured to the man, saying, “Georgia, I’d like you to escort this man from the premises and mark him with a temporary ban – I don’t want to see him again for two weeks.”

The girl nodded sharply, her long, red braids tossed about by the action. With a flick of her wand, she bound the man’s wrists and pressed the tip to the inside of his right forearm. “This won’t hurt,” she muttered, concentrating as a bright blue mark appeared on his arm, taking the form of a plain, hollow circle. The mark complete, she escorted him out of the dungeon and eventually the mansion.

Once the two had disappeared from sight, Fabian resumed his dance with Hermione, holding her a little more securely now. It took longer for the rest of the party to recover themselves. The music was struck up again as partners re-joined and they began to dance and sway once more.

Once he had decided he was ready to release her, he caught Lucius’ eye, the other man’s charmed black hair swaying as he acknowledged Fabian’s invitation. He tactfully extracted himself from the arms of the witch he had been dancing with and wended his way across to them. Several pitying stares followed his progress, his target clear to everyone in the vicinity. Pity turned to awe as Fabian gladly relinquished his young partner, ensuring she was settled in Lucius’ arms, before kissing her cheek and making his way back towards his wife.

Once Fabian was at a safe distance, Lucius tightened his grip on her waist possessively. She was pulled against him, and in that moment felt safe. Comfortable. His eyes scanned those nearby, glaring at anyone who looked as if they might attempt to separate them. A number of young wizards shrivelled under his glare, halting their approach and quickly finding partners nearby. The few witches who had approached weren’t so easily dissuaded and continued towards them until they were intercepted by Helina, who whispered something into the ear of each in turn, making their eyes wide and bringing smiles to their lips. The only person who wasn’t deterred by either Lucius or Helina was a bubbly young wizard who spoke with a high, feminine voice. He bounced towards them and rested his hand on Lucius’ bicep, grinning cheekily.

“You are a handsome one, aren’t you? How’d you like to be my Daddy, Sir?”

Lucius scowled at the young man, whilst Hermione suppressed a giggle. “I have less interest in being your ‘Daddy’ than I have in being eaten by a dragon,” Lucius replied, his voice cooler than the chill waters of the Black Lake in winter.

The man pouted. “Oh please, Sir?”

“Absolutely not.” He tightened his grip on Hermione, glancing pointedly in her direction, before moving them away across the floor.

They moved away from the pushy young wizard; Lucius quashed further interruptions with glares full of dark promise. They swayed together comfortably. Hermione felt herself relax, minute by minute, cheek-to-chest.

Half way through their third song, Hermione felt a long, toned body press itself against her back, one hand joining hers on Lucius’ shoulder and the other sliding between their bodies to rest on her stomach. Lucius would only let one other get so close to her, she knew.

She shivered. Being pressed so intimately between two powerful wizards was terrifying, comforting and arousing all at the same time.

“Something wrong, Little Witch?” Her professor’s voice rumbled in her ear, his tone teasing.

She shook her head. “Just a bit chilly.”

Lucius snickered, pressing his lips to her forehead to muffle the sound. “Isn’t it fortunate, then, that we have gained a partner?”

Hermione nodded, her movement restricted between their bodies. She arched her back minimally, her bum pressing into the tops of his thighs.

A groan sounded behind her, the hand on her stomach flexing slightly.

“Behave yourself, witch, or I shall have to take you in hand.”

“Yes, Sir,” Hermione murmured, permitting herself a smile. Despite all their power, she could still make them dance to a different tune, for a few beats, at least.

“Hurry on, Midnight,” Lucius muttered, beginning to sway them again, adjusting his rhythm to that of the music.

For well over an hour, they danced. Hermione soon discovered that she was pressed between two of wizarding Britain’s most well renowned Dominants. Many eager submissives, male and female both, approached to request a dance, a session, or both. Sometimes, it was even at the behest of their own Dominants. They were immediately turned down, though not as harshly as those seeking the hand of the witch protected between their firm bodies. Several Dominants also approached to chat with the two men and they would pause in their dancing, separating slightly to converse, before coming back together as if they had never parted.

As Hermione’s feet began to tire, even despite her charmed shoes, the trio decided to retire to a small lounge setting in the corner of the room. The podium was only a few feet from them, making it an ideal location to spend the rest of the night before the grand finale. They were soon joined by Marian, Fabian and Helina. Fabian warded the space against unwanted intruders and Helina waited until he was done, before starting the conversation.

“Lucius, Severus - how are you both?” She smiled at them, a hint of laughter in her still-bright, hazel eyes.

Both men shifted uncomfortably; that look could only mean trouble.

“Well, thank you,” Lucius responded after a moment.

“Managing,” Severus followed.

Helina’s smile turned to a cheeky grin. “Your hair is rather long today, isn’t it Lucius?”

His eyes went wide for a moment and he swallowed audibly, his face going slightly pale. His mouth tightened and he inhaled sharply, before answering, “I intend to cut it back after the collaring.”

The older woman nodded. “I see. And you, Severus? Do you have any interesting intentions for your hair?”

He flushed, every muscle going taut. After a moment, he glared at the woman. “Don’t you dare.”

“Oh, but Severus, it would be so fun – and it might even help you to be a better Dominant for this lovely young thing!”

“I believe we will be just fine, Madam,” Lucius said, stung and defensive.

After a short, tense silence, Helina burst out laughing. She was soon joined by the rest of the group, Severus and Lucius both glaring before shaking their head and laughing too.

 The group continued to chat amiably until around eleven, at which point Fabian left to ensure that the visiting guests were escorted from the premises.

Hermione remained nestled between her two wizards – soon to be her Dominants – and watched as the crowd dissipated; slowly dwindling until the remaining assembly comfortably filled only half of the dungeon. A murmur started in a corner as someone recalled Fabian dancing with a young witch, before passing her off to the well-known Master Abraxas. Another added that Master Tobias had joined them and the dungeons were soon buzzing with chatter.

Fabian stepped onto the main podium and, casting _Sonorous_ , cleared his throat. The entire room immediately fell silent, all eyes on Fabian. He caught Hermione’s eye before proceeding.

“Good evening, everyone. As some of you may know, tonight is a very special night for our community. Masters Abraxas and Tobias have nominated tonight to formally collar Leda, the newest trainee to come up under Mistress Marian. They will be taking on the task of completing her training, with the intention to present her with their official collar,” he paused as a ripple of excitement ran through the room, before gesturing for quiet. “As Leda is her trainee, Marian will officiate the collaring on this occasion. So, without further ado, I shall place you in her capable hands.” Smiling, he stepped down and allowed Marian to take his place.

Marian, smiling tightly, waited for the crowd’s tittering to die down. “Well, ladies and gentlemen, I see no use in delaying the matter. Leda, gentlemen, would you join me?” Beckoning them towards her with one hand, she flicked her wand with the other, enlarging the surface of the platform to host all of them.

The small group of people between the trio and the platform parted before them like the Red Sea. As the two wizards helped Hermione onto the platform, the collared submissives in the room dropped to their knees at the feet of their dominants. Rather than casting their eyes to the ground, as would usually be expected, they focussed their gazes intently on the platform, and the people occupying it.  

Marian gestured for Hermione to kneel and waited for the men to position themselves. Both stood at Hermione’s front, Severus to her right and Lucius to her left. Lucius placed his left hand on Severus’ right shoulder and Severus mirrored the action. Marian handed them the length of chain that was to be the collar and, placing it lightly over the back of Hermione’s neck, they each held an end, gripping the emerald snakes lightly.

Clearing her throat, Marian cast _muffliato_ to prevent the assembly from overhearing their names and began the short ceremonial oath. “Miss Hermione Granger, do you promise to serve Messrs Lucius Malfoy and Severus Snape to the extent outlined in your contract, to honour and please them, to learn to the best of your ability and remain loyal to them for the duration of your training?”

Concentrating hard to overcome her nerves, Hermione took a deep breath, before answering, “Yes, Mistress. I do.”

Marian, fighting the urge to grin, turned to the two men. “Master Lucius Malfoy, do you promise to care for and protect Miss Granger, provide her with the training and experiences specified in your contract, support her academically, emotionally and physically, whilst remaining faithful as much as your circumstances allow?”

Giving a slight nod, Lucius replied, “I do, Mistress.”

Marian then turned to Severus, repeating the question. Hermione waited, a tremble running through her body. Lucius, she had had no doubts about. Professor Snape, though - even despite all she knew of him now – she was uncertain. Five years of memories came flooding back in a heartbeat. She felt light headed as he raised an eyebrow and looked down upon her.

“I do, Mistress.”

 Hermione was floating. Her panic had been ridiculous, but she suddenly knew just what this now meant to her. Her breathing slowly returned to normal, as Marian completed the ceremony.

No longer restraining herself, Marian grinned and, with a soft, “Finite Incantatum,” dispelled the muffling charm, allowing the assembled audience to hear their conversation clearly once again.

“Gentlemen, if you would clasp the collar?”

The pair reacted immediately, bringing the snakes together so that their heads touched. The emerald serpents seemed to come to life for a short moment, each sinuous form twisting around the other until they were indistinguishable. Magic fluttered about the snakes, the barest caress of a breeze. Far away, Hermione heard the chime of a clocktower bell. Someone - Hermione didn’t know who - tugged on the chain, ensuring the clasp was secured. She wasn’t paying attention to that. The realisation of what she had just done was hitting her, a heady rush that sent tingling pleasure through every inch of her body.  They released both the chain and each other. There was a short moment of silence, and then the room erupted in applause, occasional whoops and whistles sounding above the clamour.

The two men offered their hands to help Hermione to her feet. Once she was standing, they lingered for a while, waiting for the applause to end. As it began to die down, Hermione felt herself being nudged off the platform. Stepping down, she allowed her new Dominants to escort her up the stairs, out of the dungeon and up to their private room.


	23. ~ First Reprimand

Hermione found herself pressed against the door, locked and warded. With surprising strength, her usually dour professor lifted her effortlessly into his arms. Her legs wrapped around his waist instinctively, fingers tangling in his hair as their mouths met. He ran his tongue across the seam of her lips, then nipped the lower one. A plaintive whimper escaped her, mouth opening barely enough for him to deepen their kiss, tongues tangling.

A disappointed whine sounded from the girl in his arms as he pulled away, all too soon.  He gave her arse a light squeeze, lowering her to the ground and making his way across to a settee. It was timber, so dark as to be almost black, and upholstered in velvet the colour of forest leaves. He sat at one end, perched upon it, feet planted firmly and knees apart.

Scowling half-heartedly at her, he gestured to his lap, “Skirts up. Over my knee.”

Gathering her skirts in hands that trembled, slight and almost unnoticeable, Hermione glanced towards Lucius. He nodded, smirking cheekily. A shiver raced through her as she bunched her skirts up around her waist. Whether it was caused by the sudden rush of cold air against her mostly-bare nether region or the anticipation of what was to come, she couldn’t tell. Perhaps both. Taking a deep breath, she bent over, resting her hips across his right knee. Grasping her firmly by the hips, he lifted her arse higher into the air and ran his hand over her supple flesh.

“Count five. A good little submissive doesn’t make a cock-tease of herself, knowing she is untouchable.”

Hermione swallowed. Nodded. “Yes, Sir.”

The first slap fell fairly lightly, high on her left cheek. “One.”

“Good.”

The second blow was slightly harder, landing on the opposite side to the first. “Two.”

Another two landed in quick succession, one on each side, slightly lower. “Three. Four.”

The final smack landed evenly across the lower side of both cheeks, making them bounce and jiggle. “Five,” she almost moaned, her breath coming in soft pants.

“Well done. Might we assume you have done some extracurricular research these past months?”

Hermione blushed, hiding her face against the side of his thigh. “I… I have acquired some… material.”

“Perhaps you should demonstrate what you have learned,” Lucius suggested, the fingers of one hand already loosening his belt as he tucked loose strands of hair behind his ear with the other; it had been cut back to elbow length now and restored to its regular shade of white-blond.

Hermione’s eyes widened. “Y-yes, Sir.” She made to stand, but found she was pinned under a strong arm.

“You will remain here,” Severus instructed, hand running idly over her pink bum and along her inner thigh, then back up again.

Lucius discarded his belt, dropping onto the settee so that his pelvis was level with her face. He rested his left hand on the arm of the settee, his right arm thrown over its back, behind Severus’ shoulders.

Seeing that he had no intention of making any further effort, Hermione brought her hands up to his placket, pausing to rub them together to warm her chilly fingers. Severus snorted.

Trying to still the shaking of her hands, Hermione slowly slid the buttons of his trousers from their holes. Pulling the material aside, she was surprised to find bare skin, rather than any kind of underwear. Her eyes flickered up to gauge his reaction and, catching her, he smirked wickedly. A movement of his hips prompted her to continue.

Wide-eyed, Hermione slipped her hand into his pants, trailing her fingers experimentally along rigid flesh. Distantly, she was surprised to feel it twitch and pulse, hardening with each feathery touch.

“Come on, Little Lioness. Where is your ‘Gryffindor bravery’?” Lucius murmured, stroking her cheek almost affectionately.

The pink blush returned to her cheeks. Her ‘Gryffindor bravery’ seemed to have deserted her.

A callused hand trailed up her thigh, gently parting her legs.

“Perhaps she requires some encouragement?” Severus suggested, one hand now kneading her stinging arse, whilst the other ran lightly along the inside of her thigh.

Shivering, Hermione unconsciously arched her back as she once again reached into Lucius’ trousers, firmly grasping his cock and releasing it from its buttoned confines. She gave a few experimental strokes, and a low growl escaped her new master’s lips. It was followed by a soft gasp which, belatedly, she realised was her own as the professor traced her wet lips with a finger that seemed impossibly warm.

Her small hand barely fit around his considerable girth and she soon noticed shallow, round marks running up the underside, evidently from the press of the buttons that had secured his trousers. Thinking back to one of the books Marian had loaned her, Hermione leaned forward some and placed light butterfly kisses on each mark, before placing one on the exposed head, her tongue flicking out at the last moment to capture the small bead of pre-come resting there. It was warm, and the taste was strange – slightly salty, but not altogether unpleasant.

Hermione heard the soft creak of timber and the rustle of velvet as Lucius’ left hand white-knuckled the arm of the sofa, the right dropping to bury itself in her curls, tugging lightly.

Emboldened by his reaction, Hermione shifted forward some more and, firmly grasping the base of his erection, licked him from root to tip, before taking the engorged head into her mouth, suckling lightly and making little circles with her tongue. Taking a deep breath in, she slowly lowered herself over his cock, gradually taking more and more until he hit the back of her throat, causing her to gag. She jerked away from him, surprised.

Lucius made a noise best described as half-moan, half-chuckle.  

Frowning, she tried again, this time stopping as the urge to gag began to rise. Backing off slightly, she began bobbing her head, trying to relax her jaw whilst struggling to remember what else she should do through her own mounting pleasure; Severus’ fingers were lightly probing her entrance, occasionally darting back to swipe against her clitoris – before returning to the task at hand.

Grunting, Lucius covered her hand with his own and began moving it, setting a steady pace as he rocked gently into her mouth. Once she had the rhythm, he moved his hand back to the arm of the settee, the timber creaking under his grip.

Satisfied that she was aroused enough, Severus slowly eased two fingers inside her, causing her hips to begin circling of their own volition, thrusting back onto him. Lucius’ grip tightened on her hair as soft moans and whimpers sent vibrations straight to his balls.

She pulled away, thinking she had done something wrong. A thrill of excitement shivered its way through her as she realised the opposite was true. The sight of his closed eyes and clenched jaw, the tick of a pulsing muscle just visible from her angle, sent a shot of heat through her body, straight to her groin. He tugged lightly on her hair, silently urging her to continue her ministrations.

Obediently, she returned to her task, giving the entire length a few firm strokes before placing her mouth over the head. Hollowing her cheeks like the books had shown, Hermione applied a light suction, bobbing ever-so-slightly, whilst flicking her tongue against the tip. With each bob, she began taking more of him into her mouth, trying to block out the sound of Severus’ fingers inside her pussy.

Noticing her muscles stiffening as the sound began, he slowed his movements, eliminating it almost entirely. “Relax, Hermione. This is completely natural – and certainly not the turn off you seem to think.” For emphasis, he lifted his hips and circled them, allowing her to feel his own erection as it pressed into her hip.

Hermione wiggled experimentally, eliciting a soft slurp from her own body and a groan from Severus.

As the professor began moving his fingers again, Lucius pressed lightly on her head, reminding her to continue moving. She decided to apologise for forgetting about him by taking over stroking him with her somewhat less-coordinated left hand, reaching into his trousers to fondle his balls.

Lucius groaned. He had been about to cast a spell to help relax her throat, but as she tugged and rolled his balls in her small palm, he quickly forgot all about her taking him any deeper and began thrusting shallowly into her eager mouth.

When next she came up for breath, Lucius gently pushed her away, his chest heaving.

Panting heavily herself, Hermione looked up at him, a silent question hovering between them.

He only shook his head, saying, “Enough.”

Hermione frowned. “Sir?”

Severus suddenly removed his steadily thrusting fingers and helped her to sit up, straddling his lap as he slid back to sit on the settee properly.

“Taste,” he commanded, holding the middle and ring fingers of his left hand against her lips. Hesitantly, she opened her mouth, allowing him to slide his fingers inside, before sucking hard on them. Running her tongue along and between them, she did her best to lap up every last drop of her juices. The taste was slightly musky but had a surprising sweetness to it and she heard both men groan as she released her professor’s now-clean fingers.

Severus lurched forward suddenly, capturing her mouth with his own, his tongue demanding her submission, and she gladly gave it. He pulled her hard against him, grinding his erection into her in an effort to show just how he felt about her wanton display. Hermione whimpered, the friction against her clitoris feeding into the tight ball of heat forming low in her belly.

She reached blindly for Lucius, gripping the front of his shirt and pulling him towards her. When he had shuffled as close as possible, she ran her hand down his torso until she found what she was looking for and began stroking his cock. He chuckled, allowing her to do as she would.

As their lungs started to scream for air, Severus released her. Suddenly, without any _glamours_ , he very much resembled the pale stranger she had seen at the lake so long ago. Hermione’s eyes widened.

“It was you!” she gasped, through panting breaths, “That’s why Lucius distracted me. It was you and you didn’t want me to see you without any _glamours_!”

Severus frowned at her. “What in Merlin’s name are you on about, woman?”

“In the lake!” She began flailing her hands about, trying to illustrate her point. “I went for a jog one morning and saw you swimming in the lake, but you saw me before I could get close enough to find out who you were, then I saw you again a while after that and you hadn’t seen me, so I was going to wait until you finished your lap and see who you were, but Lucius turned up and… well, he distracted me so I wouldn’t see you.”

Lucius chuckled. “I’ve yet to have a better start to any day.”

Severus rolled his eyes. “Strange little witch.”

Hermione grinned, her cheeks turning pink. “Are you going to collect my maiden’s blood?”

“Not without your permission,” he answered, “But I had intended to ask.”

“Well you can have it as long as you do it gently and get it over quickly.”

“It’s going to be very hard to achieve both of those things together, Hermione,” Lucius hedged, “It’s best to do it quickly; being gentle will just prolong the pain, whilst being equally painful. It’s best to--”

“I will do what I can,” Severus interrupted, “You will be thoroughly prepared beforehand, however, so, most likely, you won’t feel very much.”

Hermione nodded in silent understanding, lower lip clamped between her teeth.

Lucius stood and offered his hand. “Now, shall we see whether you followed my instructions?”

Hermione smiled up at him and, nodding, turned in Severus’ lap and allowed Lucius to help her stand. The skirts of the dress fell back around her legs, slightly rumpled from being bunched up, before smoothing themselves magically.

Lucius crouched, gathering the skirts once again and pulling them up as he stood. He had her raise her hands above her head as he carefully worked the bodice off her torso. She brought them back to her sides as he turned to drape the dress carefully across an armchair. Lucius grinned like the cat who got the canary.

“Good girl,” he purred, standing so close that he was almost on top of her. He wrapped his arm around her waist, hand resting on her backside, and pulled her against his front, circling his hips against her lower belly. He hadn’t bothered to tuck himself into his pants and the contrast of hot, velvet flesh and cool, rough wool on her bare skin was both odd and arousing. Looping his finger under the chain about her neck, Lucius pulled her into a gentle kiss, gradually deepening it until she was making little sounds of pleasure.

“Undress him.” Hermione jumped at the sound of Severus’ voice, almost pulling herself completely from Lucius’ embrace – she would have flown from his arms, if not for the grip on her waist.

After a moment of hesitation, she brought her hands to his collar and began slipping buttons from their holes, working as quickly as she could on the rows of tiny buttons. She tried to push his heavy, black frock coat to the floor, but found it caught on his wrists, cufflinks securing it. Huffing in frustration, she pulled away from the warmth of his dominating mouth to see what she was doing and removed the silver studs. Now that she was able to see what she was doing, the coat was soon followed by a crisp, white dress shirt, leaving his pale, sculpted chest bare.

His trousers were hanging loosely around his hips and Hermione dropped to her knees, sitting on her heels to remove his boots and socks, before returning fully to her knees, sticking her tongue out to lick his cock as she pushed his trousers down.

Lucius groaned at the unexpected contact, moving away as he stepped out of his trousers. “I should punish you for taking liberties.”

Hermione blinked as she realised what she’d done, ducking her head to examine her lap. “Sorry, Sir.”

Two fingers lifted her chin as he crouched down to her level. “I should – but I won’t tonight.”

She smiled shyly at him. “Thank you, Sir.”

“You’re welcome,” Lucius replied, then, leaning in to whisper in her ear, he added, “Now, why don’t you crawl over there and show Severus what you can do with that mouth?”

Hermione nodded eagerly and turned to crawl obediently towards her professor. He was scowling at them both and when he attempted to enter her mind, she projected an image of exactly what she intended to do to him. He sucked in a sharp breath, raised his eyebrow at Lucius, then sat back and spread his legs, allowing her to kneel between them.

Mid-way through her short crawl to him, she had a sudden rush of confidence, an idea popping into her head. It was hidden carefully at the centre of Occlumency defences, a vast labyrinth of twisting and turning paths, and she did her best to avoid making eye contact until absolutely necessary.

Kneeling by his feet, she started by removing his boots and socks, before unbuttoning his frock coat and throwing it to the other end of the settee. She unbuttoned his dress shirt, leaving it hanging open to reveal light flesh almost the same shade as the material. Reaching as far as she could on her knees, Hermione flicked her tongue over one flat nipple, then the other, earning nothing more than a deep exhalation that blew through her hair, pulling on the loose curls framing her face. Lucius snorted in amusement. Pouting, she kissed her way down his chest, whilst her fingers worked at his belt and fly. Surprisingly, his trousers had a zip with two buttons at the top, rather than all buttons. She was disappointed to find that, unlike Lucius, he had also worn underwear in the form of black, cotton boxers. Scowling at the offending garment, she tugged on his trousers. He lifted himself accommodatingly and allowed her to pull them down and off his legs. She then kissed her way back up his leg, ignoring the hairs there. Unlike Lucius’ legs, which were practically bare, with only a light dusting of soft, downy, blond hairs, barely darker than those on his head, Severus’ legs were covered with bristly black hairs that stood out against his sallow skin. She gave his thigh a playful nip, then, meeting his eyes, she flattened her tongue against the hard ridge in his boxers and followed it from root to tip, leaving the material covering his cock damp with saliva. Grinning, she abandoned his now wet boxers and leaned up on her knees again, kissing along his chest, before lightly grazing a nipple with her teeth.

He groaned and stood, forcing her to shuffle back. Throwing off his shirt, he shoved his boxers down around his thighs and, grasping his erection in one hand and her head in the other, he pressed the tip to her lips and commanded, “Suck.”

Smiling cheekily, she opened her mouth as if she were about to drink something through a straw and, pressing her lips to the very tip of his member, sucked.

Severus growled. “Properly. Unless you want a caning on your first night.”

Hermione’s eyes widened, and she immediately opened her mouth, taking as much of him as she could manage. Placing her hands on his thighs, she began bobbing her head, pausing occasionally to swirl her tongue around the tip. Severus, she noticed, was slightly longer than Lucius, but couldn’t quite match his girth and where the head of Lucius’ cock was a reddish-pink colour, Severus’ took on a slightly more purple hue.

With both of his companions occupied, Lucius took the opportunity to tidy away their clothes, ensuring everything was in neatly folded piles. Hermione was still wearing her shoes, so he crouched behind her to remove them, then placed them by the door with his and Severus’ boots. When he was done, he crouched behind her. This time, he was closer. Much closer. His breath was warm as it drifted across her neck and shoulder, arms snaking around her torso. His left hand went up, to cup her right breast, pinching and rolling the nipple. The left slid down her stomach, cupping her mons as agile fingers combed through the neatly trimmed curls he found, slipping between her wet folds. A tender touch of her clitoris, and she jerked into his hand. He continued to probe further, eliciting a string of moans from her which, in turn, received a loud groan from the man above her whose fingers twisted into her hair, his hips now rocking slowly. Biting down on her neck, Lucius thrust his cock against her backside, pulling her further against him. Hermione groaned, pulling back from Severus to catch her breath. She leaned against Lucius, her hips circling against his hand and her eyes closed in pleasure.

At her soft, endless whimpering, both men looked to each other and nodded. Lucius released her, receiving a disappointed whine for his troubles. He stood, stepped in front of her, and as one both men offered her a hand. She took them, swallowing down the nerves that suddenly bubbled and spat like a cauldron. She was pulled to her feet and took a deep breath.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ladies and Gents, I’ve gotta say, I’m running out of written-and-edited chapters. I’ve got up to chapter 25 edited, but the next two aren’t done and I’ve been a tad bit lazy with the writing. Did you know, as an adult, holidays aren’t a thing anymore? Because I quit my job for *ahem* /reasons\ and I’m in the process of getting into education courses and I’m busier now than when I was getting up at 4am for work!   
> Anywayyyy, let me know how I’m doing here and what you’d like to see, if anything, and I’ll probably be really evasive if you manage to ask for something that’s already planned and just end up giving it away anyway and I’ll get back to nagging my darling editor. For those with Wattpad, look up Malochai if you’d like to join the Christmas nag brigade.   
> Oh yeah, Merry Christmas, Happy Hanukkah, er, I don’t really know the others because I don’t practice a religion, so Happy Holidays I guess and happy reading!  
> Toodles!! (I’m a dork, I know.)


	24. ~ Pleasurable Returns

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ooh sheet. One more chapter after this, unless my editor gets some time off in the next fortnight! I’m (kind of) still writing, so there’s stuff to edit, at least? (Does re-reading and then falling asleep count as productive?) No, I recently made a trip to Typo, my favourite shop (and my mum’s LEAST favourite shop) and they had some really nice Harry Potter notebooks, so I got them all and then I went through the books and my own (illegible, disorganised) notes and wrote out my major plot points, so progress has more or less been made. I’m procrastinating like a real writer! Anyway, this got long. Enjoy, don’t forget to leave me feedback. Seriously, I live for your comments. Also, if I didn’t reply to you, your comment may have been marked as spam. I had some issues with my touch screen recently and it was a butt and hit ‘spam’ instead of ‘approve’. Right. I’m done now. Goodbye. Enjoy. Comment. Please. Let me know what you wanna see or your predictions for the plot, or what you think about stuff. See ya.

Once she was on her feet, and her escorts certain her legs were steady, they led her across the room. Her eyes fell upon an abnormally large four-poster bed, predictably adorned with plush sheets of green and silver. she admired the softness of the material, hands grasped her waist and she was thrown atop it, a squeal escaping as she fell. Before her mind registered what was going on, Severus was upon her - kissing, licking and nipping his way up one leg. Then he was hovering over her sex, warm breath caressing her wet lips, before disappearing as he returned to her feet. Agile fingers ran across her ankle moments before his lips, and he started to work his way up the other leg.

He reached her hip and began to kiss across the taut expanse of her stomach. Her muscles fluttered, the wet trail he left in his wake glistening in the low candlelight. She arched into his touch as he neared her breasts, but he veered away, starting again at her neck, working down, along her collarbone, towards her left breast. Light kisses and gentle nips were placed all over her soft flesh, studiously avoiding her aching peak, no matter how hard she tried to guide it to his mouth. When he had finished teasing her left breast, he moved to the right, once again evading each and every attempt to have his lips find her stiffened nipple.

With a soft rustle, Lucius joined them on the bed, running his hand along her left arm, before grasping her wrist lightly and guiding it up above her head. She felt him wrap a length of soft silk around her wrist, tying it securely before attaching it to the headboard, just right of centre. Satisfied with the first binding, he slipped off the bed and walked around to the other side, repeating the process with her right hand, crossing it over the first and binding it just as securely. He tested the bonds to ensure they were neither too tight, nor too loose and, satisfied with his handiwork, sat at the head of the bed, legs stretched out alongside her body, slowly stroking himself as he watched her moan and writhe beneath his friend.

Once she had been tied, Severus crawled further up her body to kiss her, plundering her mouth with his before returning to her breasts. This time he sucked the first pebbled peak into his mouth, rolling it on his tongue and tugging lightly with his teeth, before moving to the other to repeat his actions. Her eyes rolled back into her head, back bowing as she tried desperately to increase their contact. Severus released her nipple with a pop, before sliding back down her body. Hooking her legs over his shoulders, she was drawn towards him, the silk bindings on her wrist forcing her body to stretch, a delicious tightness running the length of her torso as the muscles grew taut. 

Suppressing a smirk, Severus parted the lips of her pussy with his fingers, flattening his tongue, and licked her from opening to clitoris, flicking the sensitive nub with the tip of his tongue as he passed. A guttural groan tore itself from her throat, her body arching, stretching even more. He kept a firm grip on her hips as he started again, sucking the sensitive bud into his mouth, then probing into her tight little opening, brushing his overlarge nose across her swollen bead, before lapping at it once again.

Within minutes, she was squirming beneath him, bucking into his mouth despite his grip, her laboured breaths turning into moans, moans becoming ecstatic cries in quick succession. Slowly, he eased his middle and ring fingers inside her, curving them to press against her g-spot, carefully working the spongy flesh as he sucked and lapped at her aching clitoris.

Hermione whined, long and loud, pressure building in the pit of her stomach, coiling like a spring.

Just as she thought she would explode, Lucius leaned down to purr in her ear, “When you come, I want you to try to push his fingers out. Don’t worry about making a mess; I promise everything will be fine.”

Unable to respond, she bit down hard on her lip, trying to push away from Severus’ probing fingers and insistent tongue. He refused to release her and, finally, the coil of tension inside her snapped, her body shaking uncontrollably as she came, obeying Lucius’ instruction to bear down on the professor’s fingers. She felt something wet trickle down onto the bed, pooling beneath her bum. Her face immediately went scarlet with embarrassment, but a wave of exhausted calm had already washed over her, leaving her with heavy limbs and a heaving chest.

Giving her pussy one last lap for good measure, Severus climbed up onto the bed properly, sitting back on his heels as he watched her, glistening fingers slipping into his mouth. Once he had sucked the digits clean, he leaned down to press a kiss to her forehead, shuffling closer so that his knees were level with her waist, her legs wrapped around him. He lifted her backside, bringing his legs together to support her hips with his thighs, before lining himself up at her entrance.

“Hermione,” he began. Her eyes widened as she looked up at him. “I am going to enter you now. Depending upon your body, this may hurt quite a lot, or not at all - hopefully, it shall be the latter.”

Hermione nodded, hands gripping the bonds that bound her to the bed.

He eased in slowly at first, adjusting his angle to cause her the least amount of pain possible. He paused as he found the thin web of her hymen, adjusting his body to lean further over her, giving power to his thrust. Holding her hips, he thrust forward sharply, pausing as soon as he felt the barrier give way. She whimpered, tears forming in tightly closed eyes. Lucius traced the collar at her throat and whispered in her ear, soothing sweet nothings to calm her as the pain receded slowly.

Leaning away, Severus summoned a phial. A charm pooled her maiden’s blood inside, before stoppering and sealing it. Lucius took it from him, placing it in a drawer.

Hovering over her once again, he began rocking his hips slowly. They were shallow movements at first, gradually deepening his strokes until he bumped against her cervix, drawing a pale whimper from her lips. Her eyes remained screwed shut, knuckles white around the bonds at her wrists as she adjusted to a flood of new sensations. She began to feel an unfamiliar fullness, the stretching of her walls to accommodate his length no longer painful and a dull throb replacing the sharp pain of her broken hymen.

Soft lips clasped around her nipple, pulling it into a warm, wet mouth, sending a bolt of pleasure straight to her groin. She cracked her eyes open, tilting her head down to watch a curtain of satiny black hair brushing across her chest as his mouth worked her breast. Instinctively, she tried to bring her hands down to grasp his head, instead feeling the soft silk restraints tugging at her wrists. She squirmed, groaned, and tilted her head back to glare at the lengths of silver silk.

Lucius chuckled. “Problem, Hermione?” he purred, running a finger from the delicate length of chain encircling her neck, up the length of her arm and along the bonds at her wrists.

She shook her head, back arching as Severus released her nipple, a whimper of disappointment escaping past her tightly sealed lips. Trailing kisses across her chest, pausing to admire the entwined serpents at her clavicle, Severus took the other nipple into his mouth, snapping his hips against hers as he did so. The sudden sharp movement caused her to gasp and Lucius smirked above her, running his fingers lightly against her cheek.

“Such a pretty little thing,” he murmured, tracing his thumb along her lower lip. Almost immediately, they closed around the wandering digit, tongue brushing against the pad. Lucius hissed in response.

Releasing her nipple with a soft ‘pop,’ Severus straightened. Brow slicked with sweat, he adjusted his grip on her hips and began thrusting in earnest. Hermione’s mouth fell open, Lucius withdrawing his thumb as her jaw went slack. Her fingers twisted once again in the bonds at her wrists, holding onto them as if they were the only thing tethering her body to the mortal world.

Severus grunted, jaw clenching.

Sliding down and onto his side to lay alongside Hermione, Lucius trailed his fingers down her stomach, brushing through the tidy thatch of curls at the junction of her thighs to circle her clitoris. Hermione moaned, the sound coming from deep in her throat. She tried to bring her legs together, to create more friction on her aching clitoris, but they were held apart by Severus’ narrow hips as he pumped relentlessly into her.

Lucius’ lips found her breast. She screwed her eyes shut, her face scrunching as every sensation, familiar and unfamiliar, came together like the players in an orchestra, sending her spiralling over the edge into her second orgasm of the night. She groaned, back bowing. “Please, Sir… I can’t…”

“‘Can’t’ - what?” Severus replied, making a valiant effort to regulate his breathing.

Hermione shook her head. “No more… Too much.”

Smirking, he paused his movements to grind his hips against hers. “Do you feel that, Hermione?” at her nod, he continued, “That is entirely for you. Everything we do from this point forward is for you.” He fingered the delicate collar. “Now, open your eyes and look at me.”

Her eyes sprang open obediently, but the effort of keeping them so was taxing. She searched his face for any sign of malice. Found none. He released the twined serpents, planted his hand back on the bed. A gasp escaped as he started to move once more, with no more warning than a quirk of his lips. His thrusts were shorter and sharper than before, and he only managed a few more before something warm and wet filled her. A low, primal groan came from deep in his chest as he collapsed over her, barely catching himself on his forearms.

His ragged breath warmed her lips and, try as she might, she couldn’t resist leaning up to kiss him, a slow, gentle meeting of lips before he pulled away to catch his breath.

Once his pounding heart had slowed, Severus hauled himself onto his knees and gently pulled out of her, watching with satisfaction as their combined juices oozed out of her, thick and sticky.

Moving back, he stepped off the bed, circling around to her left to sit opposite Lucius. They waited for Hermione to marshal her strength before Lucius helped roll her carefully onto her stomach.

“On your knees and elbows, Little Lioness,” he murmured, helping her into position, bum stuck in the air, back arched towards the bed.  The weight of her front rested on her elbows as her wrists, no longer crossed, were still tied securely to the bed.

Lucius knelt behind her, lining himself up at her entrance. “Ready? This will be quite different to what you experienced with Severus.”

Hermione nodded, burying her face in the pillows. “Yes Sir,” she said, the sound muffled.

With one hand on her hip and the other guiding himself, Lucius slowly pushed inside of her, watching carefully to ensure he wasn’t hurting her. When her grip tightened on the silk bonds, he paused, leaning down to ask whether she needed him to stop. She vigorously shook her head, pushing back against him to emphasise her point. Straightening, he chuckled and proceeded to sheath himself fully insider her.

Hermione moaned, unable to stop her hips from circling against his. Growling, Lucius grasped her waist with both hands and pulled out almost completely, before thrusting hard into her again. The collar swayed, serpents tapping against her chin, before returning to hang mere millimetres from her flesh. He set a steady pace, grinding his hips against her arse with each forward thrust.

Raising his right hand, he silently summoned his wand. The silk slithered like pale snakes against her skin, releasing her from the bed and linking her wrists to one another. Parting her legs some more, he leaned forward, pressing his chest against her back as he kissed his way from shoulder to neck. He stopped thrusting, rather, rotating his hips in slow circles as he slid his hands up her sides to gently knead her hanging breasts. As he rose into an upright position, he brought her with him, keeping her back pressed firmly against his chest.

His hands skimmed down her arms, before taking a hold of her wrists and guiding them over his head, the length of silk binding them wrapped behind his neck.  He paused to pull his hair from under it, then returned his hands to her breasts, pinching and tugging at her hardened nipples. Hermione moaned as he began to thrust again, moving carefully so that he wouldn’t slip out of her warm embrace. His hands trailed away from her breasts in opposite directions. One found the taut skin of her neck, fingers dancing across the delicate chain, whilst the other combed through her soft curls to find her clitoris. His fingers crept away from the collar and he slowly increased the pressure on her throat, gradually restricting her breathing, even as she panted, chest heaving.  Her eyes fluttered shut and her head fell back onto Lucius’ shoulder, her fingers tangling in his long, silky hair.

Lucius turned his head to purr into her ear, “Do you want to come, my little whore?”

Hermione moaned, her core flaring at his last word. It should have been insulting; it should have been degrading, but she couldn’t find it in her to believe that. She wanted to react, to do anything, but every thought disappeared, burned away like fog in the morning sun. 

Sharp pain lanced through her core, melting into a throbbing pleasure as his fingers soothed her aching clitoris. His growl was something else, a demand she couldn’t refuse. “Answer me.”

“Yessssssss,” she hissed, circling her hips,

“Manners,” came Severus’ voice, now directly in front of her.

Hermione whimpered. “Yes, Sir… Please… Y.. ye.. yessir!”

“Good girl,” Severus crooned, bending to wrap his lips around one taut nipple.

Lucius increased his pace, her pink derriere wobbling delightfully as his hips slapped against the fleshy mounds. In their upright position, the viscous product of her earlier coupling with Severus began to obey the pull of gravity, running like syrup down her thighs. His fingers fairly flew over her clitoris, alternating between teasing circles and brisk strokes. Hermione writhed between the two men, her two men, a tension she was becoming pleasurably familiar with coiling low in her belly. She released a high-pitched whine, her body convulsing as she came. Her inner walls flexed and pulsed around Lucius. Distantly she heard Lucius’ grunt as he came, once again feeling the sensation of being filled with the product of a man’s ecstasy – _her_ man.

The trio carefully disentangled themselves, Lucius slowly releasing his hold on her neck, before helping her to remove her arms from around his own. Severus slipped off the bed and wandered into the bathroom, where he could be heard rummaging through a cabinet – one seemingly full of glass bottles.

Lucius untied her wrists, and then nudged her forward, encouraging her to support herself on the headboard. Satisfied with her position, he pulled out of her, watching with a grin as their combined juices ran down her thighs, adding to the wetness already formed there.

“Severus!” he called.

“What?” Severus shouted back, coming to the bathroom door moments later, a translucent pink phial in his hand. He stopped, his grip tightening on the phial. He cleared his throat. “Hermione… would you be terribly opposed to one stroke of the paddle?”

Hermione glanced over her shoulder. “Just one?”

He nodded. “One.”

She thought for a moment. “I – I suppose that would be okay.”

“Are you certain?” Lucius asked, running his hands lightly over the fading handprints on her bum.

Hermione nodded. “Yes. So long as it’s just one.”

Lucius nodded, then turned to Severus. “Shall I fetch the camera?”

“Yes – the wizarding one. This should make for a wonderful photograph.”

Lucius climbed off the bed to search for the camera, whilst Severus retrieved a black paddle from a nearby drawer. It was rather long, enough so that it would easily span her entire backside, yet it was only two or three inches wide. The instrument itself was made of timber, a faux leather covering encasing all but the handle. Two sets of letters were carved into one side – the first, nearest the handle, appeared to be Lucius’ initials, reversed, whilst the other set seemed to be Severus’ initials, similarly mirrored.

When Lucius returned with the camera and a tripod, Severus knelt beside her on the bed and waited for Lucius to line up the camera. When he was ready, Hermione was instructed to face the wall. She felt the cool paddle tap lightly against her backside, before moving away. The camera clicked, then the paddle hit – hard – before disappearing again. She remained still, biting her lip and waiting for Lucius’ instructions.

Several seconds passed in silence. “You may move now, Hermione.”

Sighing with relief, Hermione slumped against the headboard, struggling to control her breathing. A warm hand gently caressed her arse, chasing away the sting. Lucius extracted the single-use film and placed it in an envelope, before stowing the camera, and began tidying the room whilst Severus continued to soothe her red-raw behind.

When her breathing had calmed, he gently lifted her into his arms, cradling her against his chest. Hermione wrapped her legs around his waist and her arms around his neck, burying her face in his shoulder. He began moving – to the bathroom, she guessed. Lucius followed, passing them before the door to draw a warm bath. Steam soon filled the room and Lucius stopped the water, before stepping into the bath. Hermione found herself being passed from the professor’s arms to Lucius’ as if she weighed no more than a doll. She suspected a featherlight charm may have been cast.

Lucius lowered them both into the water, encouraging her to relax against his chest, whilst Severus conjured a stool and sat beside the tub.

“You’ve done very well, Hermione,” Lucius murmured, running his hands across her stomach and sides.

Hermione blushed.

“Your cervix will be bruised in the morning,” Severus said, “I will give you a potion to remedy the bruising once it manifests – until then, there is nothing to be done. For now, you will need to drink this.” He held out the translucent pink phial from earlier, shaking it gently for emphasis.

“Yes Sir.” Without question, she took the phial, although her hands trembled as she did so. The mixture was strangely sweet as it slid down her throat.

“Good girl,” Severus whispered, stroking her cheek with one hand as he discarded the empty phial with the other. “Let’s get you cleaned up, shall we?”

Hermione nodded, and Lucius nudged her to lean forward so that she was no longer leaning against his chest. Each man conjured a loofah and soap, then set to work. Severus started at her feet, washing and massaging them in turn before continuing up her legs. Lucius, having pinned her hair on top of her head and out of the way, washed her back, before pulling her against his chest and beginning on her arms and front. He paid special attention to her breasts, being careful not to over-stimulate her body, still almost painfully sensitive, before moving to her stomach, working in slow circles beneath the water

Taking care to keep pressure off her sore backside, Severus gently lifted each leg for washing, before lifting her – with Lucius’ help – to lightly wash her bruised derriere, and spreading her legs to wash between them. He carefully rinsed away the sticky residue from the night’s activities, before pronouncing her clean and helping her out of the bath.

Whilst Lucius dried himself with a charm, Severus summoned a towel. He took his time gently pat-drying her body; yet another sensation added to the mixture of her night. Warm hands interrupted her absent musing as she was turned so her back faced the mirror, and Severus’ lips brushed her earlobe as she was directed to look as herself.

Hermione peered over her shoulder, eyes wide as her gaze alighted on the bright red imprints on each cheek; the letters ‘S.S’ were beaten into her right cheek, the left bearing Lucius’ ‘L.M’, though they appeared to be reversed in the mirror as they had been on the paddle.

Lucius’ eyes caught those of her reflection and he grinned, coming to stand in front of her, before reaching around to knead her abused arse.

“Such a good girl,” He said, holding her protectively against his body. “So beautiful.”

Severus raised an eyebrow at the pair. “Come here, Hermione.”

Hermione looked up at Lucius, and when he loosened his hold on her she stepped away. Slow and cautious, she padded across to her professor.  She stopped a short distance from him and was surprised when he raised a hand to beckon her closer. She continued to edge slowly towards him until her breasts pressed against his chest. With one finger, he tilted her head up so that she could meet his eyes, then bent, pressing his lips lightly to hers. “You have been a very good girl tonight. The challenge now will be keeping this arrangement secret. You shall be escorted back to Grimmauld Place by Fabian. Lucius and I will follow within a few minutes – we will be collecting Draco first. You must remember to treat us no differently than you usually would.”

Hermione nodded.

“Now, we had all best get dressed and on our way. It’s late.”

“Fine,” Lucius sighed, sounding disappointed the evening had ended so very early - despite being late.

Hermione giggled, stopping him as he passed with a hand on his forearm. Smiling, she pulled him closer and placed a fleeting kiss on his lips.

Grinning, Lucius made to return the gesture, but found his lips pressing against Severus’ palm. “Don’t start. We’ll never make it back.”

“Bastard,” Lucius grumbled, scowling half-heartedly at his friend, before continuing to his pile of clothes. Holding each item up, he cast a charm to remove any wrinkles, before stepping into his trousers and pulling his dress shirt on, followed by the heavy frock coat. He buttoned his shirt and tucked it into his trousers, before buttoning the placket and securing his frock coat. Severus nudged Hermione out of the bathroom and began dressing himself whilst Lucius performed the de-wrinkling charm on her dress. Once the beautiful emerald garment had been restored to its luxuriously silken glory, Lucius handed it off to Hermione and sat to pull on his socks and boots. Tearing her eyes from the two elegant-looking men, Hermione carefully shimmied into her dress, before allowing Lucius to help her into her shoes.

Once they were all dressed, _glamoured_ and ready to go, Severus and Lucius walked Hermione to Marian’s office, where they found Marian, Fabian and Helina chattering away over tea. Lucius cleared his throat. All three looked up at them, a knowing grin lighting Marian’s face.

Severus narrowed his eyes at her.

“Fabian, would you mind please escorting Hermione home?” Lucius asked.

“ _Neither_ of you want to do it?” Helina asked, gasping in mock surprise.

 Severus rolled his eyes. “If a member of the Order were to catch us all sneaking in together, it would be rather suspicious.”

“Besides,” Lucius added, cutting across his friend, “We will be collecting Draco first.”

Fabian nodded. “Very well. Come on, then.” Standing, he offered Hermione his arm

Lucius handed him the camera as he approached. “Could you have this developed?”

Nodding, Fabian took the camera, retrieved the film and stowed it in his pocket. Placing the camera on Marian’s desk, he followed them from the office and down to the main entrance.

Hermione shivered as they stepped out into the cold night air and Lucius quickly removed his cloak, coming behind her to wrap it securely around her shoulders. He bent to kiss behind her ear, then straightened and made his way down the path and out the gates, where Severus was already waiting.

“Wait!” Hermione called, starting towards them. She soon realised that the ridiculous shoes were only slowing her down and carelessly kicked them off, leaving them in the middle of the pebble path. She ran across the uneven ground, skidding to a halt just short of Severus’ chest. He raised a single brow at her. Blushing, Hermione said, “Thank you, Professor,” and leaned up to press a kiss to his lips, before turning to fetch her shoes. She almost ran headlong into Fabian in her haste. The elder wizard had collected them and followed along in her wake. With a chuckle dancing about his lips, Fabian caught her about the waist before she could bowl them both over. He presented her with the shoes and, her cheeks turning an even more fetching shade of red, she took them. Rather than struggle to walk any further in them, she elected to carry the offending footwear.

Waving, Fabian and Hermione watched as the two men _disapparated_. Once they were gone, Fabian tucked Hermione’s hand into the crook of his elbow and _apparated_ them both to an unfamiliar alley in what sounded like a very noisy city. He helped Hermione to remove her glamours, ensuring she would look like herself should any of the order see her as she entered. When they were done, Fabian once again tucked her hand into the crook of his elbow.

“Do I need to –” before she could finish her question, Fabian _apparated_ them to the street outside of twelve Grimmauld Place.

Hermione stared at him in awe. “Y-you know how to get here?”

Fabian smiled. “Yes. I am a member of the Order – though that is a fact that I keep mostly to myself nowadays.”

Nodding, Hermione allowed herself to be led up the steps to the front door. Just as Fabian turned the handle, they heard another soft crack of apparition and turned to find Severus, his arms linked with those of both Lucius and Draco Malfoy. He looked somewhat weary – and no doubt he was, after _apparating_ himself and two others.

The younger Malfoy looked pale - terrified, even. His hands shook as if a vibration charm had been set on him. Frowning, Hermione hurried to his side and, with the help of Fabian, they managed to guide him to the kitchen, where he was sat in a chair by the fire, whilst Hermione bustled about, looking for something to give him. Eventually, she settled upon a cup of camomile tea and some of Molly’s sandwiches. When he had finished, he seemed much calmer; his hands had stopped shaking almost completely and his face had regained what little colour it usually had. Between them, Hermione and Fabian managed to coax him upstairs to the bed Severus had prepared. He immediately fell into the soft pillows, not even bothering to remove his shoes. Shaking his head, Lucius removed the simple slip-on loafers and tucked the boy in. 

Closing the door behind them, the group returned quietly to the kitchen, where they bid Fabian goodbye and had some tea and sandwiches of their own – Fabian politely declined the invitation to stay, saying he had already consumed enough tea to fill a harbour, and took his leave. When the remaining trio had finished their tea and sandwiches, Hermione quietly tidied up. They had decided that Lucius would share Hermione’s bed for the night as there were no rooms left for him to use and Severus had his own room, so had no excuse to use hers. Nobody would check on her, surely. Lucius didn’t mind the idea at all – until Hermione informed him that there would be no extra-curricular activities, or he would find himself sleeping on the floor. As they left the kitchen, Hermione found a bar of chocolate and tiptoed back to Draco’s room, where she left it on the night stand for him to find in the morning.

Her cheeks pinkened once again as Severus kissed her goodnight and left for his own room. Ducking her head, she led Lucius to her bedroom, where she released her hair from its updo, removed her makeup, and changed into some pale blue knickers and a white camisole, before climbing into bed, facing away from the door.

Lucius grinned at her, stripped himself naked and slipped in behind her, pulling her flush against his body, his hand resting on her stomach.


	25. ~ Christmas Morning 1996

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Righty-ho. This is the last chapter that I’ve got ready to go. I’m writing more now, but my editor is busier than a hooker on a pirate ship, so new chapters will come as they’re completed (that means edited and all.) We’re trying to provide you lovely peopleses with the best quality of work we can, but that DOES mean a little bit of waiting while we catch up with stuff. Anyway, enjoy and I’ll hopefully see ya soon!

Hermione woke to the unfamiliar sensation of warm hands on her body – one had made its way under her camisole to trace a winding path up and down her abdomen and the other was leisurely circling her right nipple through the fabric. Her eyes shot open; she almost reached for her wand, before remembering the previous night’s events. Her limbs felt leaden, too heavy to move. She groaned.

A snicker caught her ear. “Good morning, Miss Granger.”

Hermione felt her cheeks warm and turned her face into the pillow. “What’s the time?”

There was a pause. “Almost eight,” Lucius answered.

“Oh…” A pressure in her abdomen alerted her to the fullness of her bladder and she wriggled, trying to pull away from her bed mate. Lucius released her, slowly, a chuckle bubbling forth. Hermione frowned at him as she picked up her wand and walked towards the door, her muscles screaming. “Don’t you..?”

“I’ve been awake for some time,” he answered, turning only to wave her off.

“Okay,” Hermione said, “Perhaps you should try to get some more sleep. Once the others wake up, you’ll have no hope.”

Lucius nodded his acknowledgement and shifted, facing away from the door once again, long hair sprawling across the pillow. It had grown several inches overnight, replacing what had been cut off the night before. Wide-eyed, she tip-toed out into the hallway and knocked on the bathroom door. When nobody answered, she entered and closed the door behind her. Eyes on her toes, she crossed the room quickly and sat gingerly on the cool seat. Finished, she washed her hands, studiously avoiding the mirror, and made to leave the room. She couldn’t help herself. As she reached the door, she stopped, turned and checked her appearance in the mirror. The collar around her neck was clearly visible. She wondered whether the snakes would truly be invisible, or if she would have to field a thousand awkward questions. Shaking her head, she took in the rest of her appearance. Her hair was no more out of order than usual, but her neck and shoulders were littered with red and purple bruises. Sighing, she carefully covered each with a _glamour_ and switched her wand for her toothbrush, deciding that she would certainly need to clean her teeth after last night.

As she finished, she heard a knock on the door, followed by Severus’ deep baritone voice. “Miss Granger, I have some potions for you.”

“Oh! Thank you, Professor,” she replied, opening the door for him.

Checking that nobody would see him, Severus slipped inside and warded the door. A smirk tugged at his lips. “How do you feel?”

Hermione blushed. “Sore.” That, at least, was honest, if only scratching the surface.

He fished two phials and a jar from his pocket. “Take these.” He held the phials out to her. One was the same translucent pink as the contraceptive she had been given the night before, the other appeared to be filled with nothing but shimmering air. “The pink is contraceptive again – to be on the safe side. The other is a mild muscle relaxant; it will help your muscles to heal and ease the pain, but won’t turn you to jelly, as I’m assuming your friends will want your attention soon.” A sneer tugged at his lips, but he suppressed it, handing her the phials

A quick nod, and then Hermione uncorked both phials and downed their contents; the second turned out to be an exceptionally transparent liquid. Placing it down, she noted him toying with the lid of the jar, before putting it on the cabinet.

“What’s that one for?”

“This one,” he smirked cheekily, “is to be applied _internally_.”

Hermione’s mouth dropped open. “Surely you don’t mean–”

“Indeed I do, Miss Granger,” he answered, lifting her easily onto the vanity.

He nudged her legs apart, flicked his fingers at the jar, which opened itself, and scooped a generous amount of the dark red gel onto two fingers. Pulling aside her knickers, he slowly teased her clitoris with his thumb, before working his gelled fingers inside her. She winced. He moved slowly, carefully spreading the cool gel thickly along her walls. His middle finger tapped her cervix, reaching barely far enough to spread the gel there. Hermione couldn’t stop her hips as they rolled against his hand. Severus chuckled. He removed his hand, certain that the gel was spread sufficiently and washed the residue from his fingers, then helped her back to the floor. The gel began to warm, stopping just short of burning. Looping his thumbs into the waistband of her knickers, he slid them down at the back, revealing the two sets of initials still emblazoned across her bum. Smiling, he directed her to look in the mirror over the vanity. Hermione stopped dead when she saw the markings, unable to tear her eyes from them.

“Th-thank you, Sir.”

Severus turned her face to his and kissed the tip of her nose. “It was – is – my pleasure.” He pressed his lips to hers.

“WHAT THE HELL ARE YOU DOING HERE?!”

The pair jumped apart guiltily, looking immediately to the still-closed door. After a moment of confusion, Hermione’s eyes widened, realisation dawning. She righted herself and dashed out the door. When she reached her bedroom door, she found Harry there, his wand trained on the bed, where Lucius was sitting, one hand holding the sheet over his groin, the other raised into the air, a smirk fixed firmly on his face despite the circumstances.

“Harry!” Hermione gasped, “Harry, what are you doing?”

Harry grit his teeth, his wand hand trembling ever so slightly. “What’s _he_ doing here? In _your_ bed?”

Hermione sighed. “I thought Professor Dumbledore had told you they were coming.”

“Yeah, but not that they’d be in your bed!” Harry shouted, his face turning a rather unflattering shade of red.

“Well they didn’t arrive until just after I got back early this morning. Draco was ill, so we put him in the spare room, but couldn’t find another for mister Malfoy. I said he could use my bed and slept on the floor. Like a good host.”

“O-oh…” Harry said, lowering his wand. “Well, I came to get you for presents.”

Hermione nodded. “I’ll be down in a bit. I just want to get dressed properly.”

“You’re okay with _him_ being here?” Harry asked incredulously.

“ _‘Him’_ does have a name, you know,” Lucius muttered – more to himself than anyone else.

Ignoring Lucius’ comment, Hermione answered, “I’m putting clothes on, Harry, not taking them off.”

Frowning, Harry turned and left. Hermione closed the door behind him and warded it to prevent any more burst-ins.

“You were gone awfully long,” Lucius commented.

Hermione felt her cheeks suffuse with blood. “Severus came to give me some potions.”

“I see. Just potions?”

Her whole face was surely the colour of a ripe tomato by now. “He helped me apply a paste – for bruising, I think.”

Lucius’ lips spread into a grin. “Internal bruising, perhaps?”

“Maybe…”

“Why don’t you come here and let me check?”

Taking a step towards him, Hermione shook her head. “I have to go down soon, or they’ll come looking.”

“Fine.” Lucius pouted. “I suppose there’ll be no ‘good morning’ kiss?”

Rolling her eyes, Hermione walked to the edge of the bed and leaned down, pressing a light kiss on his lips, before pulling away. As she did so, Lucius seized her ‘round the waist and pulled her into his lap, crushing his lips to hers and pulling her down against his erection.

Hermione whimpered, pushing away from him. “I’m going to be missed if you don’t let me go. Then they’ll have the whole Order breaking the door down.”

Huffing, Lucius released his grip on her hips, allowing her to climb off his lap. “I suppose I had best get dressed too.”

“You should,” Hermione said, wandering over to her dresser.

She opened and closed the drawers, pulling out clothing as she did so. When she was satisfied that she had everything she wanted, she removed her camisole and knickers and threw them onto the foot of her bed. She replaced these with a small, white thong made almost entirely of lace, and a matching bra. Next, she stepped into a short, pale grey skirt that fell loosely to her mid-thighs and pulled on a form-fitting white shirt with long sleeves and thin, pale blue stripes.

Glancing at her as he cleaned his clothes and began to dress himself, Lucius shook his head.

“You look as if you’ve been _fucked thoroughly_ ,” Lucius said, “That outfit is evidence if ever I’ve seen it.”

Hermione turned and scowled at him. “It is not!”

Raising an eyebrow, Lucius looked her up and down, before saying, “Would you usually wear a skirt and tight shirt?”

Without saying a word, Hermione turned back to her dresser and replaced the skirt with stained jeans and the shirt with a loose jumper. “Better?”

“Well your friends certainly won’t suspect a thing. I’ll be down in a bit.”

“Alright. We’ll probably be in the kitchen this year – there’s too many people for the living room. Bring Draco if he’s awake, otherwise just let him sleep.”

Lucius nodded his acknowledgement and slapped her backside as she passed. Hermione yelped, glared half-heartedly over her shoulder, removed the wards on the door and left to find the others. As expected, she found the others crowded into the kitchen, chattering excitedly. The presents from under the tree had been piled along the elongated dining table. The adults had already opened their presents – save Severus, unused to receiving gifts and unaware that any had been left for him – and were huddled around what Hermione supposed must be the coffee pot. The professor, scowling, had seated himself at the end of the table, as far from everyone else as possible. Hermione, without much choice, took the spot between Harry and Fred. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Remus watching her, eyes narrowed and nose scrunched.

Reaching into the pile, Ginny began passing out gifts, each of which was opened excitedly. It was as Ron’s latest parcel exploded in his face – courtesy of the twins – that Hermione noticed Lucius sidling into the room, using the distraction of the explosion to reach Severus largely unnoticed. He summoned a mug of coffee, not bothering to add milk or sugar, and began practically inhaling it. It seemed he was as exhausted as Hermione. Remus glanced at her again, before eyeing Lucius and the professor, his brows raised.

When the pile of gifts had diminished to four strange black boxes tied with coloured ribbons, a bright, glittery red box with moving sprigs of mistletoe and a pile of squishy parcels that everyone knew would be Mrs Weasley’s famous knitted gifts, the adults began to pay attention again. The black boxes, bearing unfamiliar handwriting and only the names of their recipients were cause for suspicion – the other was clearly intended for one of the younger members of the group. Hermione had decided to purchase a gift for Draco and had charmed the box to display a colourful Christmas theme.

Lucius raised an eyebrow as Ginny, sporting a green elf hat whose ears flapped periodically, carefully passed him one of the black boxes, her eyes narrowed. The group watched expectantly as he slowly untied the gold ribbon. Lifting the lid, he peered inside, picked up the slip of paper on the top, read it, and placed it safely back in the box. His eyes meeting Hermione’s, he retrieved the first of the two gifts – a neat silver ring that seemed much too small to be a bracelet, but far too large to fit around a finger. He smirked. Next, he lifted out a length of silver chain. It was attached to a black leather handle with a clip on the opposite end. His lips pursed, Lucius replaced the two items in their box and closed the lid without comment, leaving the excited onlookers more confused than they had been at his receiving a gift in the first place.

The next gift to be handed out was the black box with red ribbon, addressed to Hermione. The box was long and thin and the handwriting on the tag, Hermione realised, belonged to Severus. She opened it cautiously, half expecting something nasty. Instead, she found a long, white candle with a hand-written note.

_If you ask nicely, I will decorate you with the colours of your choosing._

Hermione blushed and, catching Severus’ eye, bit down on her lip. He smirked.

“It’s just a candle,” she said, receiving a sigh of disappointment.

Ginny handed her a second black box, a pale blue ribbon tied around it. Cautiously, Hermione untied the ribbon and lifted the lid off the flat, relatively square box. Inside, she found what appeared to be a rather innocuous pile of black silk. Raising her eyebrows, she lifted the silk, only to find that it was not one, but two items made of the same soft, black silk. Taking the second item from the box, she held the two up and watched as they unravelled, revealing two long scarves. Looking back and forth between them, her eyes widened as the pieces fell into place in her head. Her eyes met Lucius’ and a smirk appeared on his face.

“It’s a good job I didn’t make you a scarf this year!” Mrs Weasley said, smiling as she ogled the beautiful silk.

“They’re gorgeous, aren’t they,” Said Ginny. “I wonder who they’re from?”

“I don’t know, but I do like them,” Hermione answered, before adding, “Let’s open this lot, then I’ll take Draco’s present up to him – Hopefully he’ll be awake.”

Smiling, the group tore into their remaining gifts, pulling out scarves, jumpers and woollen hats, each coloured brightly and bearing the first initial of its recipient.

Hermione had received a maroon jumper with a yellow ‘H’ on the front. Smiling, she pulled it on, picked up her pile of gifts, along with Draco’s, then stopped, her gaze caught on the final black box. “Oh! Professor Snape!”

Sitting back down, she pushed the black box towards him. Ginny picked it up and handed the box to their professor who took it warily, casting several detection charms before untying the silver ribbon and lifting off the lid. His eyebrows practically shot into his hairline and the lid was carefully replaced, the box tucked into a pocket inside his robes. The entire room felt tense. Everyone wanted to know what had been inside the box, but nobody wanted to ask.

Rolling his eyes, Severus sighed, then said, “A… chopping board… and… ring.”

Hermione smiled “Suitable, don’t you think, Sir?”

“Yes. Very.” Something in his glare told her she would be encountering the ‘chopping board’ later.

Nodding, she once again gathered up her gifts – and Draco’s – and headed off upstairs. She stopped in her bedroom, leaving most of her gifts there before re-wrapping a set of history books with a flick of her wand. Shortly after, she was outside the door of the spare room. Her knock elicited a groggy response, and she poked her head in, smiling.

“Merry Christmas, Ferret,” she said, although the nickname held none of its usual bite.

“Mmmrmph,” he replied, burying his face in the pillows.

Stepping fully into the room, Hermione closed the door behind her and lit the wall sconces. “Come on. You’ll miss breakfast if you don’t get up soon; you’ve seen how Ron eats.”

Groaning, the blond boy rolled onto his back and glared at her with barely-open eyes. Realising that she wouldn’t be leaving any time soon, he sat up, rubbed his eyes and yawned. “What do you want?”

“Well,” Hermione started, “I thought we could unwrap these together, then I’ll go and get you some pyjamas to wear until your clothes arrive.”

Scowling, he muttered, “Fine,” and shuffled aside so that she could sit on the edge of the bed. Smiling, Hermione took a seat and handed him the colourfully wrapped box which bore his name. Reluctantly, he tore the gift open, freezing with shock when they wrapping paper fell away, revealing a navy blue jumper with a bright yellow ‘D’ on the front and a small, blue journal, barely bigger than his hand. A smile tugged at his lips, but he quashed it. “What are these?”

“The journal will allow you to correspond with people in secret. Anything you write will be invisible to everyone but the intended recipient and, of course, yourself.”

“And this monstrosity?” he asked, poking the woollen jumper with a finger.

“It’s a ‘welcome to the family.’ You’re one of us now, so I got you a jumper. Molly knits them every Christmas, but I had to buy yours because she was already too busy to do another on such short notice..”

Draco ducked his head, colour rising high on his cheeks. “Thanks…” he mumbled. Spotting the package still in her hands, he gestured to it, saying, “What – What d’you think that is?”

Hermione blinked confusedly, before realising what he meant. “Oh! It feels like books – hopefully those history books I’ve been looking for.” Testing the weight in her hands, she watched him as he followed her movements. “You can open it if you like? I don’t mind.”

Draco smiled this time. It was tight and there was a sadness in his eyes still visible, but he nodded and took the package, opening it carefully. “History books.” He rolled his eyes. “Why does that not surprise me?”

Hermione chuckled. “Why don’t I show you to the bathroom? You can shower, and I’ll collect you some pyjamas – I’m pretty much the only one who gets dressed on Christmas; the boys all lounge in their pyjamas and stuff themselves silly.”

Draco nodded. “A shower would be nice. I probably stink.”

Hermione stood, hands on her hips. “Well I can’t smell you from here – yet. Come on.”

Raising an eyebrow at her – clearly a habit learned from both his father and Head of House – Draco slipped out of bed and followed her to the bathroom. Hermione found him a towel, a toothbrush and a fresh bar of soap.

“I’ll be back with some pyjamas. Don’t worry – I won’t look.” She darted out the door and made for Harry’s room; he would be the closest to Draco in size. She fished out Harry’s dark blue winter pyjamas. She knew he wouldn’t miss them; they were fitted, but the trousers and sleeves were far too long. Perfect for Draco’s lanky figure. Smiling, she took them back to the bathroom and knocked on the door. “Draco, it’s me!”

She could hear the water running, then came the muffled, “Cover your eyes!”

Hermione shook her head as she unlatched the door, covering her eyes with one hand and bumping the door open with her hip. She caught it with her foot so that it wouldn’t swing too far open, then slipped inside and closed the door with her bum. She heard Draco’s amused snickers from the direction of the shower and stuck her tongue out at him.

“Don’t do that in front of my father,” he warned, amusement in his voice.

Warmth flooded her face. “Shut up.”

Draco laughed this time. “Just hurry up and get out.”

Hermione sat the pyjamas on the vanity. “These might need adjusting, so I’ll wait in your room and we can sort that out once you’re wearing them.”

“Out, Granger.”

Her cheeks turned an even darker shade of pink and she scuttled out of the room, latching the door behind her. Uncovering her eyes, she made her way back to Draco’s room and waited patiently for him.

Minutes later, Draco shuffled into the room. The trousers weren’t too long, dragging on the floor at his heels, but not so long that they completely covered his feet. The sleeves, however, engulfed his hands entirely, flopping about as he moved his arms.

Standing just inside the door, he flapped them amusedly.

“I don’t know what these were made for, but it’s not a human.”

“The knocker, perhaps?” Hermione said, smiling.

“The what?”

“The knocker. He’s a muggle miners’ legend and he’s supposed to have ridiculously long arms.”

Draco gave her an incredulous look. “Right…”

Shaking her head, Hermione waved him over, saying, “Let’s get these sorted then.”

He nodded, coming to stand directly in front of her. “Don’t shorten them too much.”

“Okay. Just stand still.” Scrunching up her nose and biting her lip in concentration, Hermione carefully transfigured the sleeves so that the cuffs ended just above his knuckles, covering part of his thumbs. “How’s that?”

Draco raised his hand, opening and closing it experimentally. “I like it.”

Sliding off the bed to kneel in front of him, Hermione tested the length of the trousers.

“Is it the money or the man?”

Her eyes wide, Hermione stared up at him. “The what?”

Raising his eyebrow again, Draco shrugged. “Nothing.” He stepped back and offered his hand. “Don’t worry about the trousers. They’re just fine.”

Hesitantly, Hermione took his hand, letting him pull her to her feet. She stared at him for a moment, wondering just how much he knew. Heat flared in her cheeks; something akin to guilt arising at the thought of what she had been doing with _his_ father and _their_ professor the night before. It left her feeling even more exposed now than she had then. Clearing her throat, she headed to the door. “Come on. We’ll miss breakfast.” So saying, she lead the way down stairs, not bothering to check whether he was coming.

 


	26. ~ Unexpected Visitors

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Soooo we actually managed to get a chapter edited just after I put out the last one, so here’s your next chapter, on time, and we’re working on the rest!

“Severus, you don’t usually stay overnight,” Mrs Weasley commented as she stood to make another pot of coffee.

Severus scowled at his toast. “No. I do not.”

“So why tonight?” Remus asked, clutching his almost-empty mug.

“Because I can. Is that not why I have a room here?”

“Don’t start,” Mr Weasley said, holding his hands up. “Just let’s be grateful we’re all alive to be here.”

Harry stared blankly at his plate. He was thinking of Sirius, that much was obvious. Hermione squeezed his knee under the table. He stiffened. Frowning, Hermione glanced across Harry at Draco. His left hand appeared to be resting on the bench between his thigh and Harry’s, whose right hand was also missing. Draco caught her looking and scowled.

“Eat your breakfast, Potty,” he muttered.

Harry glanced around – checking whether anyone had heard him, no doubt – then began to eat slowly, skewering food on his fork left-handed.

Having eaten her fill, Hermione excused herself and headed to her room. She was in the midst of clearing some floor space and conjuring a single bed when she heard the all-too-familiar screeching of Mrs Black. The doorbell had rung. Hermione peeked over the bannister to see who had arrived, spotting the familiar, lanky figure of Fabian, followed by Helina, her long hair hanging freely.

Every occupant in the house seemed to have come to investigate. Mr Weasley pushed his way to the front of the crowd, drawing level with his stunned wife. “Molly?” he gave her a worried look, before turning to greet the visitors, his mouth falling open when his eyes found Fabian’s. “Fabian Fiendfyre…”

Fabian nodded, offering his hand for Arthur to shake. “And my wife, Helina.” He placed his hand lightly on her waist, bringing her forward.

Mr Weasley’s jaw worked soundlessly for a few seconds before he seemed to gather himself and welcomed them in. “To what do we owe this pleasure?”

Fabian smiled, directing his gaze towards Hermione, standing frozen on the landing. “We are actually here to visit Hermione. Well, mostly.”

Jolting as though she’d been slapped, Hermione hurried down the stairs to meet them.

“Perhaps we should return to the kitchen?” Mrs Weasley offered. “There’s plenty of food left and we can put another pot of coffee on.”

“I agree, Molly,” Helina said, stepping forward to help shepherd everyone back to the kitchen. “Breakfast would be much appreciated. Besides, I expect Severus will be needing more coffee with so many youngsters about.”

Fabian, Lucius and Severus hung back, waiting until the hallway had emptied again. Hermione smiled as Fabian pulled her into a warm hug.

“How do you feel?”

“Okay,” Hermione replied. “Severus gave me some potions and stuff this morning.”

“I hope one of those was a contraceptive,” Fabian said, his eyes pausing on her stomach as he looked her over.

Severus harrumphed. “Of course it was. She had one last night and another dose this morning – just to be on the safe side.”

“Good, good. Now, I have a gift for you, Hermione.” Fabian reached into an inner pocket of his robes and retrieved a tiny, wrapped box. Placing it on his open palm, he tapped it once with his wand and watched as it grew to the size of a shoebox. Stowing his wand, he handed the parcel to Hermione.

Smiling, she removed the lid, revealing a stack of what she could only presume were books. On top lay a wizarding photograph, which she recognised immediately as the one Lucius had taken the night before. She watched, mouth agape as the paddle branded her backside over and over with their initials, a creamy white substance dripping down parted thighs.

Lucius peered over her shoulder, a grin appearing on his face as his eyes alighted on the photograph. “You are _magnificent_.”

Hermione blushed and quickly pushed the photograph under the stack of books, pulling out the largest of the pile to examine. It was a photograph album. Brand new, bound in red leather with swirling gold corner accents on the cover and creamy parchment pages, it was entitled, _‘A Lioness’ Submission.’_ Below the title, a photograph was inlaid into the cover. It was a wizarding photograph, showing the moment her Masters had clasped the collar about her neck, a shimmer of magic swirling around the enamoured trio.

Lucius offered to hold the box whilst Hermione opened the album. The first page was identical to the cover of the book, less the picture, followed by another page, reading simply, ‘ _Debut’_. Grouped in small collages in the next few pages were a combination of Wizarding and Muggle photographs from the night of her debut. The back of the title page was blank. The page opposite featured her alone on the platform, kneeling obediently or standing to have her limbs massaged and muscles stretched. The next page was filled with photographs of her Masters-to-be arriving, with one of her surreptitiously looking up from under her lashes to view them. Opposite this, were images of the Masters negotiating with Marian and introducing themselves to a nervous Hermione, before inspecting her. Turning the page, her mouth fell open in awe as she found a double-page spread of their play session that night, showing the several stages of her body being decorated, along with Master Abraxas’ skilful pleasuring and, featured at the centre of the two pages, photographs of the finished products, one each of her front and back.

Lucius smiled, his eyes darting towards the end of the corridor to check that they were still alone, before leaning in to kiss her neck. “You were truly perfect that night,” he murmured.

Severus glared, his own gaze darting cautiously in all directions. “Take care, Lucius. It would not do to be seen.”

Fabian nodded his agreement and Lucius stepped reluctantly away.

Hermione cast a glance in the direction her friends had gone, then turned the page of the photo album. Here, she saw herself cradled in Lucius’ arms after being attacked. His mouth moved slowly, his expression soft, completely at odds with the steel in his eyes. She hadn’t seen that at the time; it made her stomach coil, tightening pleasurably. There were also a couple of images of Severus, his wand trained on the offending wizard, who stood ready to duel. His _glamoured_ face was a mask of fury and Hermione heard a remembered echo of his feral growl as he flicked his wand, throwing the other wizard violently against the wall.

The next page lacked photographs, instead bearing another title; ‘Training Collar’

The pages that followed featured photographs from the previous night. At the centre of the double-page spread were two different perspectives of the collar being clasped. Fanned out around these, were images of the ceremony from before and after the clasping. At the edges of the page, she found a series of pictures in which she was dancing, first with Lucius, then pressed between both wizards. From this perspective, she could see the affection in their eyes, something she had been oblivious to at the time, and occasionally a fierce glare directed at what she could only assume were approaching wizards. She bit her lip to stifle a giggle as, in the bottom corner of the left-hand page, she found a photograph of her and Lucius. Next to them was the persistent young wizard who had asked her Master to become his ‘Daddy’. He grinned cheekily and rested his hand on Lucius’ bicep, oblivious to the furious scowl and impending snarl of rejection. Fabian, seeing her expression, followed her gaze and smiled at the image.

“Ah, yes. I had thought to exclude that particular image, but Helina insisted that you would want it included.”

Hermione grinned openly now, her thumb brushing the edge of the picture as Lucius and Severus peered over her shoulder.

Lucius scowled. “That was not entertaining in the least.”

“I beg to differ,” the professor replied, a smirk tugging at the corners of his lips.

“Oh, do you?” Lucius snapped, the bite of sarcasm every bit as venomous as his glare.

This time, Hermione couldn’t suppress the bubble of amusement that rose in her, a giggle making its way past her lips.

Fabian smiled at her, waiting for the trio to calm down, before saying, “The rest of the album is blank. You need only create a title page and place the photographs you wish to include on the next page. Close the book or tap it with your wand and the images will arrange and resize themselves. You can move them on the page and between pages, too, if you like.”

“Thank you, Fabian,” she breathed around her beaming grin. Clasping the album tightly in one hand, she threw her arms around the elder wizard’s neck. The book slapped him in the back with a hard _thump_ and the older man coughed as the breath was knocked out of him. Chuckling, he put her away from him and removed the book from her hands, passing it to Severus to peruse, before opening his arms once again for the little witch. Her cheeks slightly pink, Hermione stepped into his embrace, raising up onto tip-toes to even the height difference a bit. Leaning down, Fabian pressed a chaste kiss to her cheek, then, seeing Lucius shift uncomfortably, he released her.

“Is something the matter, Lucius?”

Lucius’ silver eyes, which had been darting up and down the hallway, met Fabian’s watery blue ones and he smiled tightly. “No. Nothing.”

Severus peered at his friend’s worried face, watching as his eyes began darting about again, resting frequently on the covered portrait of Mrs Black. “I think it best we join the others now.”

Hermione nodded. “There should still be some coffee and you might manage a bit of toast – if Ron hasn’t eaten it all,” she said, collecting the photo album from the Professor and stowing it in the bottom of the gift box. After a moment’s thought, she asked, “Is the rest of this safe to go through in front of the others?”

Chuckling, Fabian said, “Yes, and the album will disguise itself as a body art book unless you wish it to show itself.”

Hermione nodded and, smiling, followed Fabian and her Masters to the table. Severus handed the book back to her and she placed it back in the box, setting it on the table, before reaching for the coffee pot and three mugs. She prepared Fabian’s coffee as he liked it, before setting it in front of him.

“Professor, Mister Malfoy, how do you take your coffee?” she asked softly.

“Black,” Severus grunted, scowling at Lupin, who watched them closely.

“Cream first, two sugars,” said Lucius, watching with approval as she poured a generous measure of cream, before filling both mugs with the steaming coffee, and stirring the sugar into his.

She placed each mug lightly in front of its owner, then took her seat between Remus and Fabian, quietly preparing tea for herself. Fabian managed to snag a piece of toast, along with some scrambled eggs and a strip of bacon. Helina politely refused when offered food, claiming to have eaten in their absence. Shrugging, Fabian ate, conversing with Arthur, Severus and Lucius between mouthfuls.

Hermione listened to their conversation with half an ear, also trying to listen to the rest of the chatter about the table. During a lull in the conversation at her end of the table, Hermione looked to Fabian, asking, “Will Marian be visiting?”

Fabian shook his head. “Unfortunately not. She sends love and regrets, but there is work that cannot be delayed any more. Last night’s event meant that other things were pushed down her list of priorities. Now it’s done, they must be tended to. More so, there was a ruckus in the early hours and a few windows were broken before we… _encouraged_ the perpetrator to desist. Still, it is a mess that needs seeing to.”

“Oh,” Hermione replied, nodding thoughtfully, “I hope she has a good Christmas, though.”

“She will. I will make certain of it,” Fabian assured her.

A frown touched Hermione’s lips as she drifted off into thought, the chatter around her continuing apace.

Minutes later, when he thought nobody was paying attention, Remus leaned down until his mouth was level with Hermione’s ear and placed his hand on her upper back, saying, “Are you okay, Hermione?”

Hermione nodded, aware that Lucius was watching from the corner of his eye. “I’m fine, thanks.”

“Are you sure you’re not being asked to do anything you don’t want to do?”

Lucius’ eyes narrowed and Fabian patted her hand, letting her know that he would intervene if needed. “I’m helping Professor Snape with brewing for the school, in exchange for tutoring beyond the school curriculum. There’s nothing involved that doesn’t benefit me, or that I don’t want to do. It’s actually quite interesting.”

“She will need the information she is receiving, don’t you think, Mister Lupin? After all, we _are_ at war,” Fabian intoned, “Miss Granger may be our best chance at keeping Mister Potter alive indefinitely.”

Nodding, Remus let his hand drop. “Okay. Fair enough. Although, our Hermione has never been known to get behind.”

“She’s far from it,” Severus muttered snidely, earning a snicker from Lucius, “The tutoring, as Miss Granger mentioned, is in matters not covered by the Hogwarts curriculum.”

“Yes, Draco has complained many a time about the – what is it you call her, Severus? _Insufferable Know-It-All_?”

Hermione scowled indignantly. “Sometimes I think that ferret has nothing better to do than whinge.”

Lucius' eyes widened in shock. “That – what?”

“Ferret,” she repeated.

“Yeah?” called Draco from a few seats away, sending a ripple of laughter around the table.

“Nothing. You never complained to your father about your time as a ferret?”

Hermione met the blond boy’s glare with a cheeky grin and he looked away, a pink tinge infusing his pale cheeks.

After a time, Molly stood, dusting non-existent crumbs from her lap, and began tidying away the breakfast dishes. Helina stood to help and, between them, they had the dishes washed, dried and stacking themselves away in no time. The men were soon shooed from the kitchen, Draco trying – and failing – to leave with them. His borrowed pyjamas gave him away and Mrs. Weasley met him at the door, catching him by the ear and bringing him back to the table, where she sat him down in front of two bowls; one filled with potatoes and another empty one. She handed him a vegetable peeler and tasked Hermione with teaching him how to use it, handing her a bowl of carrots to peel once he was safely at work. Harry, Ron and Ginny were given a pile of vegetables each, then Molly and Helina set to work on the turkey.

Hermione was peeling the second-last carrot when Lucius entered, staring haughtily down his nose at the toiling teenagers. After peering disdainfully over the shoulder of a muddy, grazed Draco who, by this point, had managed to peel his index finger, palm and thumb at least once each, he sniffed and turned to Molly. “Molly, might I borrow miss Granger for a moment?”

At this, Hermione’s ears perked up and she hurriedly peeled the final carrot.

“Why would that be?”

“Well, labouring under the assumption that she is responsible for the arrangement of the library, I was _hoping_ that she would be able to locate a book or two. Severus and I have had no luck.”

Sighing, Molly turned from the counter to survey Hermione’s progress. Upon seeing that she, unlike her companions, was finished, the Weasley matriarch sighed, waved her hand and said, “I suppose you can have her. Just don’t go keeping her too long. I need her to teach your son how to use a knife.”

“I can do it, Mrs. Weasley,” Harry said, waving his knife dangerously close to Ron’s ear.

“If you say so, Harry, dear. Off you go, Hermione.”

Nodding, Hermione stood and followed Lucius out of the kitchen and up to the library.

Fabian gave them a knowing smile as he passed them in the hallway, moments before Lucius ushered her through the door. They had not been looking for a book. The door clicked shut behind her and suddenly she had a strange sense of deja-vu.


End file.
